In Her Eyes (Season 5, Episode 2) - REVISED
by bionic4ever
Summary: (Season 5, Episode 2 - REVISED) Is the baby Steve's...or Michael's - and if she's Michael's, what will this do to the Austins' marriage? Can Mark pull Jaime back from the abyss? (***PLEASE NOTE: While this episode was already posted, the wrong content was loaded and the previous story duplicated. My apologies to the readers! This is the CORRECT episode!)
1. Prologue

**In Her Eyes** - Season 5, Episode 2

Prologue

The siren wailed as the ambulance rushed Jaime, the newly-born Austin and Steve (who of course had to ride along) to National Medical. ''How is she?'' Steve asked. His heart pounded with emotion as he realized that question now covered _both_ of them - his _family_

''Your daughter is breathing well; Apgar of 8 at five minutes,'' the medic told him.

''That's...good?'' Steve wondered.

''That's excellent.''

''And...Jaime? How's my wife? Is she alright?''

''We're working on her now; we'll be at the hospital soon.''

The enormity of what he'd just done suddenly hit Steve like a lead balloon and he began to hyperventilate. A minute later, when one of the medics noticed him, he was out cold. They quickly affixed an oxygen mask to Steve's face and continued working on Jaime. Her blood pressure was dangerously high and she'd lost a considerable amount of blood - and they relayed this information to Rudy so the appropriate medications and transfusion materials could be waiting when they arrived.

Steve came around quickly, thanks to the oxygen, and as he sat up on the gurney and leaned back against the wall of the ambulance, one of the medics offered him a tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle. ''You did excellent work out there, Colonel,'' the man told him with a smile. ''We wondered if you could hold your daughter for us until we get to National.'' (It was as much for Steve's benefit as for the baby's.)

Steve took the proffered little bundle and held his daughter gingerly out in front of him with both hands, as if unsure of quite what to do with her. ''Hold her right up to your chest, so she gets some of your body heat,'' the medic instructed.

Tenderly, with more love in his heart than he'd ever believed possible, Steve cradled his tiny daughter in his arms and pulled her in, close to his chest. He couldn't count her fingers and toes just yet so his eyes began taking in every detail of her face: her perfect miniature bow of a mouth, a nose that looked so much like Jaime's...and the deepest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

- - - - -


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

''Do you have a name for her, Colonel?'' the nurse asked Steve.

''I know my wife has one picked out,'' Steve answered (never taking his eyes off of the perfect, miniature person in the warming table). ''But if she's changed her mind and I give you the wrong one, Jaime'll have me scrubbing latrines with my toothbrush for the rest of our lives,'' he finished with a wry chuckle. ''Better wait.''

The nurse chuckled too and returned to her station on the other side of the glass cubicle, to allow the new father a few minutes to begin to bond with his daughter. What she didn't know was that Steve had already fully bonded with the infant, from the very second he'd helped bring her into the world. The baby was doing far better than had been initially expected. A transport incubator stood nearby, should transfer to Clayton Memorial prove necessary but thus far it had not been needed. She weighed just over three and a half pounds, perfectly formed and seemed well able to breathe on her own. She would receive tube feedings for the first few days until she'd gained a little more strength, but this was to be expected and only a precaution.

Steve had (of course) been upstairs several times to check on Jaime. She was still sleeping, on painkillers and mild sedation while the doctors worked to bring down her dangerously high blood pressure (and hopefully stave off bionic rejection). Finally, she began to stabilize - and each time he visited, Steve had made the doctors promise to send someone for him immediately when it was time for his wife to wake up, so his would be the first face she saw when Jaime opened her eyes.

Meanwhile, he found himself completely besotted by the little girl in the warming table.

* * *

Steve leaned in to kiss his wife awake, once Jaime's eyelids began to flutter. ''Hi there,'' he began. ''We have a _daughter_!'' (He was unsure if Jaime had been conscious - or coherent - enough to hear his pronouncement in the back of the car.) ''She's as beautiful as her Mommy.''

''Is she...here? Or did they...send her to Clayton?'' Jaime knew the baby had been born right on the 'borderline' of 32 weeks. Things could go very well for her...or very badly.

''She's here - and not in an incubator - just a warming table.''

''Is that...enough?''

''She got her feistiness from you; I can see it in her eyes,'' Steve said happily.

* * *

True to her own feistiness, Jaime was soon demanding to be taken to see her child. No amount of calm reasoning from Doctor Hammond or Rudy would dissuade her. She was fully awake, she felt relatively okay (for someone who'd just given birth prematurely...in a car...which meant she felt yuckier than she cared to admit) and she wanted to see her daughter!

As much as her doctors wanted to say yes, it was simply too soon. Jaime could still throw off a potentially lethal blood clot - and she needed to remain flat on her back for at least the next few hours, possibly a little longer, to be on the side of caution. They promised the new mother she'd have her baby in her arms just as soon as it was safe for her to do so. Jaime informed them that she'd just walk down there on her own if they didn't produce a wheelchair...and the doctors and their (very stubborn) patient were at loggerheads until a nurse saved the day when she remembered she had a Polaroid in her car.

''That's perfect!'' Steve agreed. He was willing to do anything to appease his wife and see her smile - anything that didn't endanger her health. ''I'll take a picture...no, I'll take a dozen pictures...and bring them right back up here for you to see!''

''It's not the same...'' Jaime insisted.

Rudy stepped up to the bed. Reasoning hadn't working. Pleading hadn't worked. Maybe...this would work. ''Young Lady!'' he began in his most authoritative voice. ''Are you going to stay resting comfortably in that bed - per our orders - and enjoy the photos of your little girl? Or would you prefer a sedative? Because one way or the other, you are NOT leaving that bed without our official okay. Period. End of discussion!'' (She wouldn't do her little girl - or herself, or Steve - any favors by getting up too soon, throwing off a clot and making Steve into a single parent.)

Jaime glared defiantly at him, with all of the strength she could muster...then smiled sheepishly. ''I'd...love to see some photos. Thank you.''

Steve had them for her within minutes - and finally Jaime was able to see her little girl's face for the first time. She kissed her fingertips and touched them to the photos. ''She's...so beautiful...'' Jaime whispered. ''And...she isn't blue or gray! She's...pink! I was so worried...''

''She's breathing room air - all on her own,'' Steve told her proudly.

''I need to hold her...to see her face _in person_...before we name her...if that's okay.''

Steve smiled. ''I already told the nurses to wait on that.''

Jaime was surprised by how tired she felt. Perhaps (as much as she hated to admit it) the doctors were right and she needed to rest just a little while longer. But there was one more thing on her mind before she gave in to sleep.

''Steve...what color are her eyes?''

- - - - -


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It was after midnight - an unprecedented time for any ICU patient to be receiving visitors - but Jaime was on a _mission_. It was a self-assigned mission, to be sure, but in her eyes her most urgent to date. Her physical condition has stabilized, with blood pressure high but no longer life threatening, and Rudy had made the mistake of sharing that bit of good news with his patient...at 12:43am. Now Jaime's jaw was set firm and she was on a _mission_; she didn't intend to wait one more minute to meet her daughter.

''Sweetheart,'' Steve said reasonably, ''it's quarter to one! You should be _sleeping_!'' In truth, he was almost as (inwardly) excited as Jaime was, to get her down stairs where she could finally hold - and give a name to - their daughter.

''And I've been sleeping all afternoon...and all evening...'' Jaime's voice was very weak but there was fierce determination in her eyes.

There would be no arguing with her; there was no point. Rudy smiled his concession. ''A short visit will be good for you, I suppose. Key word being 'short', Young Lady.''

Jaime was as awestruck as Steve had been, at the first glimpse of their daughter. She really couldn't see very well from the wheelchair though, and Steve had to physically stop her from standing to get a closer look.

''I can go one better,'' Steve told her. Carefully but with confident, loving hands (the nurses had shown him how), he picked up the baby, cradled her close to his chest and then (taking care not to dislodge her feeding tube) bent at the knees until he'd seated himself on the floor in front of Jaime's chair. Then he placed their daughter into her mother's waiting arms. He kept his own hands on Jaime's to steady her since she was still so weak...and the loving tableau brought tears to the nurse's eyes as she quickly retreated from the cubicle to give this new _family_ some privacy.

''She's...perfect!'' Jaime said softly. She traced every line of the infant's face, counted her fingers and toes...and smiled at her husband. ''She might not be here...if it wasn't for the world's best...most heroic...roadside obstetrician...''

''Well, you might've helped a little,'' Steve teased.

Jaime laughed...and the baby squirmed in her arms. ''I'm sorry, Becca,'' she said without thinking about it. Jaime looked up and her eyes met Steve's. ''_Becca_...'' she said again, trying it out for size...and for Steve's approval. ''Rebecca Ann...?''

''Sounds like the name of a great Poet Laureate,'' Steve said softly.

''Or maybe an astronaut!''

''I think the future's yours, Becca,'' Steve told his daughter.

''She could even be the first female linebacker for the NFL!''

* * *

Two days later, with some of her strength returning, Jaime was in rare form. ''Why can't the warming table be brought up here, to my room?'' she demanded.

''Because it just isn't done that way,'' Hammond explained patiently.

''Well, why not?''

''Jaime, while we were able to prevent transferring Becca to my neo-natal ICU, she still needs specialized care - care that can best be performed in the concentrated atmosphere of an ICU -''

''And you need to rest up, so you can care for your daughter full-time when you go home,'' Rudy put in.

''Oh, _horse-feathers_!''

Steve chuckled and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. ''Someone's feeling better this morning,'' he noted.

''Steve, _tell them_!''

''Sorry, Sweetheart; I think we need to trust the docs' judgment. Besides, I'll take you downstairs any time you want, as often as you're able -''

''Then let's move my bed down there!''

* * *

While they couldn't very well move an extra bed into the tiny glass cubicle, it was almost as though Jaime herself had moved in. She held her daughter and spoke softly to her, sang to her and rocked her gently - all while Steve looked on and beamed at his new family. As Becca passed the milestone of what would've been 33 weeks gestation (had she not been born too early), her feeding tube was removed to give her the first chance at taking her nutrition from a bottle. After careful instruction from the nurses, Jaime was the first to try feeding the baby the 'normal' way. Becca seemed to lack the instinct of a healthy, full-term infant to pull heartily on the nipple - but she did manage a few weak sips...and it was a promising start.

Seemingly out of nowhere, after she'd let the rubber nipple fall away from her mouth, Becca opened her eyes and looked directly at her mother for the first time. Jaime smiled radiantly at her. While it was unlikely the baby was seeing much more than a blurred outline at this point, it was the most alertness she'd shown since birth - and things could only move upward and onward from there.

* * *

That night, with Steve by her side dozing in a chair...Jaime was suddenly in the iron-fisted grip of a nightmare.

_Michael stood over her with his shirt off, laughing at her. There were no words...just full knowledge of what had happened - and what it could mean - as his deep brown eyes staring mockingly at her._

Steve was instantly wide awake, alerted by the whimpers of fear from his wife's bed beside him. He held her close until her trembling had stopped and then - at Jaime's insistence - wheeled her downstairs to see their daughter. She needed to reassure herself that Becca was safe.

* * *

''Tell me about that nightmare,'' Mark began the next morning.

''Steve ratted me out, huh?''

''Of course he did.''

''Yeah, well, it wasn't so bad, really,'' Jaime insisted.

''First one you've had in awhile,'' Mark noted. ''Your subconscious is trying to tell you something. While it may not be what it appears at first glance, there's almost always a message there. So let's figure it out.''

''I don't want to. Michael's already stolen too much from us - too much of our energy, too much 'peace' - and I refuse to give him one more second!''

- - - - -


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jaime was 'released' from the hospital on the same day that Becca was freed from the feeding tube for good - but of course Jaime wasn't about to leave the hospital without her daughter. The bed on the Third Floor was still hers anyhow (because how many other patients would need to be admitted to the Bionics Wing), so Jaime slept there at night and was able to spend as much time as she liked in getting to know Becca...and letting Becca get to know her...to a point.

Over the next week, Jaime also spent a lot of time up in 'her' room, either thinking very quietly by herself, talking quietly with Steve...or not-so-quietly with Mark. A trend had begun to develop, and he needed to 'call' her on it since the time was fast approaching when the three Austins would be headed _home_ together. Mark would do everything in his power to make sure that time was a joyful one for them.

''Tell me how things are going,'' he began in a neutral voice. He'd already spoken with Becca's nurses (and with Steve) so he knew exactly what was going right...and what was _not_.

''Everything's great,'' Jaime told him. Her voice sounded drained of most of her usual exuberance. ''We're a real _family_ now.''

''Are you?''

''Yes! Steve is wonderful with her - you should see him.''

''Actually, I have,'' Mark admitted. ''I've seen both of you. You're in a glass cubicle down there, remember?''

''I wasn't aware my behavior was being observed,'' Jaime snapped.

Mark was undeterred by his patient's flash of ill temper. ''You should be more surprised if I _wasn't_ watching - and I saw a few things. I'll tell you about them...but first, I noticed something in what you said to me just now.'' He paused for a beat, but Jaime merely looked sullen. ''Not going to ask? Well, I'll tell you anyway. You mentioned the three of you - and you talked about Steve with the baby - but not one word about _you_. How are _you_ feeling about being a new parent?''

''I could be down there right now - with my daughter - if I didn't have to be up here talking to you!''

Mark had heard enough. Jaime needed a firm reality check - and she needed it _now_. His voice remained gentle...but his words were serious ones. ''Would you like to make sure she's sleeping first?''

''What the hell's that supposed to mean?'' Jaime demanded. ''I...I'm down there all the time! You're out of line!''

''Hit a nerve, didn't it?'' he shot back. ''Because I know what I've seen - and I know what the nurses have seen.''

''Well, I don't wanna hear it!''

''You _need_ to hear it,'' Mark insisted. ''No one is doubting that you love your daughter; of course you do! And you'd spend every waking minute down there if we'd let you. But...since she's been off of tube feedings, how many times have you given Becca a bottle?''

''I'm not exactly keeping score.''

''Once. Just one time - and the rest have all been Steve. Or the nurses,'' Mark told her.

''Maybe because Steve needs time with Becca too...I can't keep her all to myself. I hold her...rock her...sing to her. I don't see what your 'problem' is!''

''All of those are wonderful - and loving - things to do. Very positive,'' Mark allowed.

''So get off my case!'' Jaime picked up one of her pillows and threw it across the room in frustration.

She just wasn't _getting_ it - or she wouldn't admit it. ''Jaime, all of the time you spend with your daughter is spent while Becca is_sleeping_. Or drowsy. When it's time for her to be fed, you give her to Steve and you sit across the room - or you come upstairs. Why do you think that might be?''

''Let me guess,'' Jaime grumbled, ''you're gonna tell me.''

''I'd rather you tell me,'' Mark insisted. When Jaime's answer was to throw another pillow, he knew he'd have to say it. ''You don't feed her because it's the one time Becca is fully awake. You don't want to look into her eyes.''

''You're full of -''

''The truth?'' Mark couldn't let Jaime stonewall or bluff her way out of this. It was too important - to her future, the future of her marriage and especially to Becca's future. ''The only thing I'm 'full of' is the truth...or you wouldn't be trying for the world pillow-tossing record.''

''I don't have to listen to this!'' Jaime snapped. She brushed angry tears from her eyes and started toward the door.

''Actually - you do. If you'd like to go home with Steve and Becca in another day or two.''

Jaime froze in her tracks. ''See, now you're just _wrong_,'' she said softly. ''I was released a week ago. When Becca's ready to leave - and she's just an ounce or two from her weight goal now - we're going home as a family. Period. You can't keep me here!''

''I _can_...and I _will_. But only if you make it necessary. So sit down and let's talk. We can rewind to the beginning and try again. Tell me how things are going.''

''I. Want. To. See. My. Daughter!'' Jaime seethed. ''And I'm gonna feed her!''

''Not out of anger, you aren't. Babies can sense that. I won't allow it; not when you're like this. I'm sorry.''

Jaime sighed in defeat. ''What do you want from me?''

''I want you to be able to look into your daughter's eyes and see _your daughter_ there - yours...and Steve's. While I know you'd have preferred a definite result with those blood tests, we have to deal with what's in front of us.''

''Knowing...it might've been worse,'' Jaime said miserably.

''How so?''

''There'd have been no more...pretending that _maybe_ she was Steve's.''

''Is that what you feel you're doing - pretending?''

''Well...yeah. I mean, you only have to look at her...''

''Jaime, you know enough about genetics to know it's very possible for you and Steve to have produced a brown-eyed child. And at the risk of being...indelicate...you and Steve were rather...ah..._active_. So the odds are -''

''I know the odds. And...I know what my gut is telling me, Mark.''

''You believe that she's Michael's child.''

''Well...yes.''

''I'll tell you why that is. It's not because of anything you might think you glimpsed, the one and only time you looked into that baby's eyes. It's not even because you might think her features resemble his - because right now you're not in a position to judge that. You're projecting the memory of your worst trauma onto the face of a tiny baby who has absolutely nothing to do with it. No connection whatsoever. So if you're seeing Michael's eyes - or even Michael's face - think of it as an optical illusion. A nasty trick your subconscious is playing on you. Don't let it color what should be the most precious relationship of your world in an ugly light.''

Jaime was determined to prove him wrong. To her, it sounded like he was implying she didn't love her own child! The nurse on duty was surprised (but didn't protest) when Jaime walked quietly into the nursery late that night, rocked her daughter gently...and then fed her a bottle.

- - - - -


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Steve returned to the ICU with his sandwich and soda, fully expecting to give Becca her next bottle. (The little girl still needed to be awakened to be fed, as she lacked the 'hunger' instinct as a result of her too-early birth - but Doctor Hammond was confident that wouldn't last much longer.) ''Your wife was just here, Colonel,'' the nurse told him. ''She took bottle duty.''

''She did? Oh. Okay; thank you.'' Steve dug eagerly into his sandwich and watched his daughter sleep. Maybe he'd been wrong, in raising a red flag to Mark. Jaime was still a brand-new mother, after all, still finding her footing. Steve just couldn't shake the feeling that something was 'off'. Instead of things getting easier for his wife as she recovered physically (and as their daughter grew stronger), Jaime was struggling. It wasn't anything Steve could put his finger on though...and nothing would make him happier than to just be _wrong_...

* * *

_What's wrong with me_? Jaime wondered tearfully. After all, she had everything she'd ever wanted...didn't she? A happy marriage...a brand-new baby...a career she was damn good at (if she should still want it)...and yet here she was, seemingly back at Square One, afraid to go to sleep. She knew she needed help - and so much was available, right there at her fingertips - but wouldn't asking for help now be the same as admitting defeat? Jaime tried closing her eyes...and Michael was _right there_, laughing at her, mocking her...and telling her once again that it was all her fault. She jumped out of bed, shivering, and stared out the window. Shouldn't a mother's love be her most basic instinct? Shouldn't it overcome everything - absolutely everything - else? What kind of mother was she, anyway?

* * *

Mark sat back in his office chair and sighed. It had been a long day, one in which he'd felt like he was treading water..._uphill_. Jaime (and Steve) had been doing so well - but this was to be expected, really. A major life change (with fluctuating hormones thrown into the mix) compounded by multiple traumas that would take a long time to even begin to heal...and Jaime was headed for either a major breakthrough - or derailment. That she was transferring her fears and emotions regarding Michael onto her child would seem shocking to a more casual observer but Mark knew it was entirely within the realm of possibility here. Indeed, Jaime herself had scratched the surface in admitting that was what was happening to her. It didn't mean she loved her daughter any less; it meant that a time of greatest joy was also a time of confusion and fear. Mark could - and _would_ - help her...if she'd let him.

* * *

In his cell in Isolation, Michael had very little to do except sit and think. Mostly, he thought about Jaime - the curve of her cheek, the color of her eyes and especially the way she had kissed him. Jaime had brought all of this on herself. By his calculations, she was just about eight months pregnant now...because of course she was pregnant. There was no other reason for them to be so adamant about wanting a sample of his blood. He wondered if, right now, she was thinking about him too...

* * *

Unable to sleep (perhaps because she didn't dare try), Jaime padded quietly into the ICU where Steve was dozing in a chair. She hated to wake him but he couldn't possibly be comfortable. Softly, she kissed his forehead and then his lips - and he smiled as he opened his eyes to the sight of her face.

''You should go upstairs and get some real sleep,'' Jaime suggested. ''I'll stay here.''

Steve drew her onto his lap, delighting in seeing her so relaxed. ''I don't need much sleep. And I'm not the one who's still recovering from giving birth.''

''No,'' she agreed, ''you're just the one who's been putting up with the one recovering from giving birth. And I love you for that.''

Their faces drew closer together for a gentle kiss...interrupted by a sound from the warming table. The cry sounded like a cross between an angry baby bird and the quiet cry (if there was such a thing as a 'quiet cry') of a healthy human infant. Jaime and Steve's eyes grew wide; it was the first time they'd heard their daughter's 'voice'. Was something wrong?

Jaime rushed to pick up the baby while Steve motioned for the nurse who met them with a smile...and a bottle. ''It's a little early, but she has her own timetable now. And I believe this is what she's asking for.''

For the first time, their daughter was hungry - and letting them know it! Jaime lovingly scooped up the tiny bundle and sat down, cradling Becca to her chest. Steve perched on the arm of the chair and offered her the bottle. This time, the child didn't need to be coaxed. Becca drank eagerly, as Steve and Jaime shared the moment together, both of them gazing happily at their daughter's face.

- - - - -


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A row of balloons lined each side of the driveway the day Becca (and thus, Jaime and Steve) finally came _home_. It was exactly one month since the day she'd demanded to be brought into the world and while neither her parents nor the hospital staff had designed for that to be the day, it seemed that nature had. She weighed five and a half pounds ('plus half an ounce', Jaime told everyone) and had developed a consistent, healthy appetite. While her cries were not as robust (and decibel-shattering) as a full-term baby, Jaime announced that Becca was 'singing' to them and Steve agreed that the description seemed perfect. For Jaime and Steve, life's clouds finally seemed silver-lined, after all.

The baby became more alert with each passing day. When she was awake and being fed or rocked, she seemed to be looking upward, searching for the sources of the voices that were the most familiar part of her world. They'd been home for several weeks and one afternoon Steve had just sat down to read the paper when Becca began 'singing'. Jaime kissed her husband's cheek on the way into the nursery. ''I'll get her,'' she told him. Several minutes later, Becca's 'song' had grown to full-out crying (she'd begun developing a much healthier set of lungs) and Jaime returned from the nursery...without the baby.

''You...need to get her...please...'' she whispered.

''Jaime...?''

''I'm...okay. I'll be okay. Please...get Becca.''

Steve noted with alarm that his wife seemed to be moving on auto-pilot toward the kitchen, with the blank eyes of a sleep-walker..._Oh no..._ he thought. He was torn between the nursery and the kitchen (and had actually started toward the nursery - and their crying child) but since Becca would need a bottle, he hit the kitchen first. Jaime was standing at the counter, with the freezer door wide open and an ice tray in front of her with several cubes missing that Steve guessed were what she was clutching so tightly in her left fist.

''I'm alright,'' she told him without turning around. ''Take care of Becca...please, Steve?''

''She's safe where she is for a few more minutes; let's get you safe too.'' Steve wrapped an arm around Jaime's trembling shoulders, grabbed a lemon from the fridge in case she should need it and led her to the bedroom. He covered her with the quilt and took a closer look. Jaime's eyes were haunted and filled with tears...but she was fully 'present'. Reassured (for the moment, anyway), he kissed her and then rushed to the kitchen and put a pan on the stove to heat the bottle.

On his way back through the living room, Steve had the presence of mind to pick up the phone and dial a well-used number. ''We need you,'' he said quietly, before hurrying into the nursery. He talked softly to Becca, calming her for now with a finger on her cheek and then returned to the bedroom. Jaime was sitting up in bed with the lemon in her hand, staring at it but (so far) not needing it. ''Mark's on his way and I can turn the bottle off and stay with you 'til he gets here,'' Steve told his wife. ''Becca's fine; I just checked on her.''

Jaime shook her head. ''She needs her bottle...and I'm alright. Besides, I can fend for myself...and she can't.''

Steve tucked her hair behind her ears and brushed the last of the tears from Jaime's eyes. ''You win,'' he told her.

* * *

Mark used his key and discovered Steve in the nursery just finishing up changing the baby after her bottle...while Jaime was lying in bed with a lemon in her hand - a single bite having removed most of the top. ''What happened?'' Mark asked her quietly, perching on the dresser across the room instead of choosing the chair next to the bed, to hopefully appear less threatening.

''I took care of it...I...stopped it.''

Mark nodded toward the lemon. ''I see that. What happened?''

''I...got some ice...and Steve got me a lemon...''

''What happened?'' Mark asked doggedly.

''You don't give up...do you?'' Jaime sighed.

''Nope.'' Mark waited - but he could see it would be like pulling teeth. ''Did it start out as a nightmare?''

''No.''

''Then it had something to do with Becca?'' Mark asked. _Silence_. ''Look, Jaime,'' he said gently, ''we can sit here and play 'Animal, Vegetable or Mineral' - or you can let me _help_ you.''

''I handled it,'' Jaime told him. ''Steve shouldn't have called you when things were already under control.''

''Really?'' Steve asked quietly from the doorway. ''Because when I went into the nursery, that lemon was still whole.''

''Which is an even better sign,'' Jaime insisted. ''Nothing happened - because I didn't let it. I didn't let him win this time.''

Steve turned to Mark. ''She went into the nursery to get Becca and then came out without her.''

''Don't help me here, Austin,'' Jaime told him. Her words were soft but her eyes flashed a warning.

''So what happened in the nursery with Becca?'' Mark inquired.

''Nothing! Nothing happened because I made sure of it, okay? And I don't wanna talk about this anymore.''

''Sweetheart...'' Steve stepped toward the bed and Jaime shook her head.

''You should've given me the chance to prove I could deal with this on my own, Steve! And you!'' she turned to Mark. ''You gave me the tools, so have enough faith in me to believe that I can use them...because I can. I did! And now I wanna go to sleep!''

Defiantly, Jaime closed her eyes. Mark nodded Steve toward the living room. They talked briefly but there was very little Steve could tell him. ''I'll be back tomorrow morning,'' Mark said as he stood to go. ''But if you need me sooner...call. Even if it's the middle of the night.''

- - - - -


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Jaime stood in the nursery and watched Becca sleep, before Steve realized she'd gotten out of bed. When he discovered her standing there, her back was to him and he wrapped both arms gently around her waist in a gesture of love and unity. When Jaime turned around, instead of looking radiant her face was covered in silent tears. Steve pulled her even closer and she buried her face in his shoulder as he led her into the living room.

''I'll make you some tea,'' he told her, ''and then I think we need to talk.'' Steve wondered, as he stirred honey into the tea, if whatever was happening to his wife was affecting her ability to care for their daughter...then he chastised himself for the thought. Jaime loved that baby to the core of her being; he could see it in her eyes. Still, she'd had to walk out of the nursery and leave a crying Becca behind. What if they'd been alone in the house together when that happened?

''You really didn't need to call Mark today,'' Jaime said softly when she accepted the cup. ''I felt...ganged up on, Steve!''

''I was worried about you...and I still am,'' he told her. He sank down next to her on the sofa, enveloping her in his arms - but instead of leaning into him, Jaime stiffened at his touch.

''Why didn't you wait?'' Jaime asked. ''Maybe see how I was first...?''

''In the past, there wasn't always time to wait,'' he pointed out gently.

''Yeah, well...that was 'past' - and this is 'now'. And you should've given me a chance, Steve!''

Why did he suddenly feel like he needed to defend himself? He wasn't about to buy into it. ''I was worried about you,'' he repeated patiently, ''and worried about our daughter. I won't apologize for that.''

''Worried...about our daughter? Are you saying I shouldn't be around Becca?''

''Of course not. Just - please - let me help you before it gets to that point.''

''Steve Austin...I can't believe you'd even _think_ that!'' Jaime cried.

Steve's voice remained even. If anything, he grew calmer as his wife became more upset - simply because he _had_ to. ''Sweetheart, I don't _know_ what to think...when you won't even tell me what happened. It's just me now; Mark isn't here. Talk to me...please?'' Steve reached for her again and this time instead of just stiffening, Jaime pulled away.

''You either trust me around our daughter...or you don't. I'm her _mother_, for God's sake!''

''Just tell me what happened - and let's deal with it.''

''I don't wanna talk about it - because it's _over_. Taken care of!'' Jaime set her cup on the coffee table and stood up. ''I'm gonna lie down now.''

''Is that how you plan to handle things now? Whenever someone brings up something you'd rather not discuss, you'll just pretend to go to sleep?''

''If I have to - yes!'' She stalked off to the bedroom...and Steve let her go, correctly sensing that things would only escalate if he followed her.

He took care of Becca's next feeding willingly. Even though his gut told him Jaime wasn't sleeping, he figured the extra rest might do her some good...and indeed, by dinnertime her mood seemed to have done a complete 180.

''I'm sorry,'' she told him as she sat down at the table. ''I don't mean to sound so stubborn. Let's watch a movie after dinner, okay? I'll make some popcorn...and who knows?''

Steve considered this a very good sign. Several days earlier, Doctor Hammond had medically cleared Jaime to resume marital activity when she felt ready but as of yet, the time just hadn't seemed right. That night, they snuggled close together after the popcorn was gone and then, needing the emotionally intimacy as much as the physical union, Jaime and Steve found their way back into each other's arms.

* * *

In the small hours of the morning, Jaime's maternal instinct picked up the first rustlings from the crib before Becca could begin to cry. She padded softly out of the bedroom (to avoid waking her husband) and picked up the infant, cradling her in her arms. Becca made soft 'baby' noises and Jaime smiled at her daughter...as Becca slowly opened her eyes.

Jaime was still smiling and cooing at the child when Becca's eyes seemed to morph - just for a split second - into Michael's. Jaime blinked away the unwelcome vision and sat down in the rocker with the baby. When she looked down, Michael's face was leering up at her...then just as suddenly he was gone and Jaime was able to rock the child into a quiet state of bliss before tiptoeing into the kitchen to prepare a bottle. Steve's sixth sense woke him and he peered into the nursery and saw Jaime feeding their daughter with (apparently) no difficulties so he quietly returned to bed, feeling greatly reassured.

In the morning, the first thing he noticed was that the oil of peppermint had found its way onto Jaime's bedside table.

- - - - -


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

''You had no right,'' Jaime seethed at Steve through fiercely clenched teeth. He had brought her out to the living room where Mark was waiting silently for their morning coffee session - with her oil of peppermint, her half-eaten lemon and an empty ice tray spread in front of him on the table. She turned to flounce back into the bedroom but Steve kept a firm grip on her arm (taking care, of course, to not actually hurt her).

''Sit down, Sweetheart,'' he told her gently. ''If you'd be more comfortable, I can take Becca for a carriage ride so you and Mark can talk.''

''Thank you...but you don't need to do that. You can both hear what I have to say; in fact, I _need_ you both to hear it! You..._both_ of you...you're not being fair to me here. You're not letting me show you that I've got this under control. Mark, you told me not to let Michael win - and now that I'm finally the one who's winning, you wanna make me backtrack and hand the power back to him, all over again. That's my reward for listening to you and taking what you said to heart? Really? And Steve...I shouldn't have to prove anything to you. I just...shouldn't.''

''Are you finished?'' Steve asked quietly. ''Because you're right. You _shouldn't_ have to prove anything to me - and I don't want you to. Especially not with our daughter in the middle.''

''Who says Becca has anything to do with this?'' Jaime demanded.

''Who says that? _You do!_ When you won't tell me anything, what else am I supposed to think? That maybe it's the damn teddy bear stickers on the molding?''

Jaime's eyes shot daggers at her husband. ''Maybe it is!'' she fired back. ''Maybe I've suddenly developed a strong aversion to teddy bears!''

''Before the two of you need flak suits and helmets, maybe I should talk now,'' Mark said calmly. It was the first time he'd spoken since Steve brought Jaime into the living room...and they'd both seemed to have forgotten he was there. ''Jaime, I just watched you become more and more confrontational until you finally provoked Steve to anger. Why is that?'' _Silence_. ''Is it maybe because you didn't want to be angry all by yourself?''

''You're about to see me get angry with you,'' Jaime told him.

''Angry...or defensive?'' Mark asked.

''Maybe...angry because you're forcing me onto the defensive,'' Jaime suggested.

Mark smiled wryly at her. ''Never try to 'out-shrink' a shrink. Now, how about if we try this again? Why are you so angry?''

''Why won't you drop it?''

''Why are you so angry?''

''Why do you ask the same questions over and over again? It's annoying,'' Jaime grumbled.

''_Why_ are you so _angry_?''

''Did you know Einstein defined 'insanity' as _doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result_? Because you've just asked the same question three times.'' Jaime smiled (fully expecting that she'd just won).

''If you refuse to tell us, I suppose I could tell you instead. You aren't really angry at all. You're afraid. Of what...I could guess and I'd most likely be right but -''

''No!'' Jaime cried. ''See, that's where you're wrong. Because right now I'm good old-fashioned, dyed-in-the-wool _TICKED OFF_! And before you can ask me three or four times why that is...I'll tell you! I'm mad, ticked, angry and even...hurt...because two men I trust - one of whom I happen to be _married_ to, by the way - are proving that they don't trust me in return. You need to trust me enough to know that if I need help, I'm gonna ask for it, and -''

''You need help _now_, Sweetheart,'' Steve told her softly.

''What I _need_ is to be able to help myself - and for you to let me do that. Or at least let me try, without automatically calling for the safety net.''

''I've been called worse,'' Mark told her. ''Sometimes even by you.''

''I don't have a problem with you helping yourself,'' Steve added, ''as long as our daughter isn't your set of training wheels...because I can't allow that.''

''I won't let that happen,'' Jaime promised.

Becca began to 'sing' to her parents from the nursery - and Mark noted that Steve was immediately on his feet while Jaime sat frozen in her chair.

* * *

Steve quietly closed the bedroom door and while both of the females in his life were napping at the same time, he seized the opportunity to call Mark and find out his thoughts about the morning visit.

''Jaime found that she was able to handle some incidents on her own,'' Mark explained, ''and that gave her enough of a taste of success that she suddenly believes she's 'cured'. In actuality, especially in cases of severe and repeated trauma, treatment is an on-going process that can take a very long time. It fluctuates between periods of great success...and the occasional downward spiral.''

''One step forward, two steps back,'' Steve said (remembering).

''That's right. Except Jaime's really at the stage now where it's more like 'two steps forward, one step back' - but when she's expecting to be making only forward strides, that one step back can be devastating because it comes as such a shock to her. Her mind may even refuse to acknowledge there's a problem; at least...at first.''

''How do I help her?''

''Try not to let her 'engage' you - as hard as that might be sometimes.''

''Tell me about it, Doc,'' Steve had to chuckle.

''Just remember her anger is - at least in part - a mask for fear. She's angry over everything that's happened to her, yes...but she's terrified over what she senses might be happening now. I do have one other technique that might possibly help, if talking and reasoning with her fail, but -''

''But our heads - yours and mine - are already hitting that brick wall, Doc. Maybe we need to try it.''

''It's too extreme for Jaime, at least at this point. And it's still experimental; it could also be dangerous. I won't even consider it, except possibly as a last-ditch effort...and my every hope is that it won't come to that.''

- - - - -


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Rudy looked up at the knock on his (open) office door and smiled at Mark. ''Got a minute?'' Mark requested.

''I could probably even find two minutes,'' the older doctor joked. ''What can I do for you?''

''I need Jaime to have a full physical, head-to-toe, neurology-to-bionics - and I need it as soon as possible, please. Tomorrow morning, if you can swing it. Oh, and one right after the other so she doesn't have time to bolt in between.''

''I'm sure I can arrange it; Jaime's neurologist is still working here with me, so it should just take a few phone calls to track Hammond down. Mind if I ask why? Anything special you need us to be looking for?''

''Jaime's been having some problems,'' Mark explained.

''Nightmares again? She was doing so well.''

''Worse. It appears she's had at least two flashbacks -''

''Oh, no...''

''That we know of,'' Mark continued. ''She's managed to pull herself out of both of them - which is wonderful progress - but both times they seem to have somehow involved Becca. I say 'seem to' because Jaime's totally clammed up - complete resistance to therapy. She's even pushing away Steve's attempts to help her. Some backsliding is to be expected, but compounded by fluctuating hormones and a possible case of postpartum depression -''

''Jaime's in trouble,'' Rudy agreed.

''And she doesn't even realize it.''

''It sounds like you've got a plan of action.''

''I'm hoping not to use it, but yes,'' Mark acknowledged. ''Jaime's always done well with talk therapy in the past. If she can come around to realizing she needs help before the situation escalates any further - or if Steve can somehow convince her - then I have every hope she'll work through this as successfully as she's done in the past. But with an infant in the house - an infant as fragile as Becca - if they're truly at an impasse or there are any further incidents, I need to know Jaime's in good health for what I propose to do next. It could be physically dangerous under the best of circumstances -''

''Then I think you need to tell me more about this procedure - or this therapy - you're proposing, if you want me to clear her for it,'' Rudy insisted.

Carefully, Mark detailed exactly what he hoped he'd never have to do...but what he feared might prove necessary. Rudy grew pale as he listened. 'Radical' didn't begin to cover it! ''I assume you'd want to perform that here, in my hospital?'' he asked when Mark had finished.

''Jaime's most comfortable here...as far as hospitals go, anyhow.''

''You know that borders on illegal. Under the umbrella of 'experimental' you can probably get away with it but at best you're violating her civil rights, if she were to turn around and sue.''

''I know.''

''When do you expect you'll be doing this to her?'' Rudy asked.

''Hopefully never,'' Mark told him. ''But I need the physicals done so we could go ahead at any time, if Jaime should prove to be a candidate.''

Rudy nodded sadly. ''I'll make the arrangements for physicals; have her here first thing in the morning.''

''Thank you.''

''How are they celebrating tonight - did they say?''

''Celebrate?'' Mark frowned, wondering what on Earth his poor, beleaguered patients would possibly have to celebrate right now.

''They didn't tell you? Today's their anniversary...''

* * *

Just before sunrise the next morning, Jaime woke before Becca did and, knowing it was just about that time, began warming a bottle. She hummed as she flitted around the kitchen, deciding for herself that today was going to be a good day. There was no reason for it not to be. She started the coffee and then took the bottle into the nursery where Becca was just making the first few small noises of waking up. Jaime scooped the child from her crib and cooed softly to her. She would wait for the baby to be fully awake before feeding her but in the meantime, they could rock. Becca seemed to enjoy that - and it relaxed Jaime, as well. She took Becca over to the rocker and sat down. Even though she knew her daughter was still probably only seeing fuzzy outlines, it seemed to Jaime as though she was looking right at her and Jaime smiled in response...just before her own world began to go haywire.

Becca's eyes...Michael's eyes...Kingsley's eyes...they all swirled together in a kaleidoscope of confusion and fear. Her two previous flashbacks in the nursery had been milder and Jaime had enough warning to be able to place the child back in her crib. This time, there was no warning; she wouldn't make it.

''Steve...'' she said softly, trying not to startle the baby. It wasn't enough. ''_Steve_!'' Jaime called, more urgently now. Her husband was almost instantly at her side. ''Take...Becca...'' she whispered, her head dropping backward and hitting the top of the rocker as the unwelcome visions took her over.

Steve quickly (but very gently) placed the child back in her crib and led his wife from the room. While Becca began 'singing' softly, he grabbed a lemon from the bowl on the kitchen counter for Jaime, some ice that he clutched in his own left hand (just to make certain he would remain grounded in the stress of what was happening) then picked up the phone and called Mark at home.

''We need you _now_,'' he told him.

* * *

''I'm fine,'' Jaime insisted, when it was all over. ''And...I asked for help when I needed it.''

Mark could see that the situation had become dangerous. ''We're going up to National,'' he announced (leaving no room for discussion or argument). ''Your doctors are all waiting; you're getting checked over to make sure nothing physical is going wrong here.''

''I am _not_ going to the hospital! I'm okay now - really!''

''You're going, Sweetheart,'' Steve told her, already getting Becca ready for a car ride. He wasn't sure what Mark was leading up to, but he trusted him implicitly. ''I'll carry you if I have to.''

Jaime went with them quietly, which was good - because Mark knew that for what he had in mind it was important that she _not_ be sedated. Steve gave the baby to the nurses and stayed by his wife's side in her room on the Third Floor as Doctor Hammond, Doctor Corinth and Rudy each took their turn with her. Then Mark eyed Steve with a steady, careful gaze. ''You need to be with Becca now,'' he told him firmly.

''But -''

''Steve, go and be with your daughter,'' Mark insisted. Something in his tone caught Steve's attention and he kissed his wife and headed downstairs, leaving Mark alone with Jaime.

''Are we done here?'' Jaime asked. '''Cause I'd really like to go home now.''

''We're just getting started.''

''Look, I jumped through all your hoops and I didn't complain once. Now I'm gonna go home.'' Mark didn't argue with her, watching somberly as she headed for the now-closed door. He waited while she turned the knob. ''Mark...'' Jaime said softly, ''...why is the door locked?''

- - - - -


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Jaime pulled _hard_ on the door - but without her bionics (she had yet to be tuned back up), it was an exercise in futility. ''You can't keep me here!'' she seethed.

''Would you prefer a 72-hour psychiatric hold?'' Mark asked calmly. ''Because that'd mean you can't work for the OSI ever again.''

''That's unfair.''

''What's happened to you is unfair,'' Mark told her. ''And we're going to talk about that.''

''No! No, we're not! Open the door, damn it!''

''I can't do that.''

''Can't...or _won't_?''

''You'll leave when we're done,'' Mark told her. (_I hope_...)

''Your threats won't work,'' Jaime insisted angrily. ''I know my rights. I'm not 'a danger to myself or others'!''

''Really? Tell me your daughter wasn't in danger this morning. I'm not saying any of this is your fault - because it isn't. But unfortunately it happened. You've been through things no human being should have to endure...and we need to deal with that. Today. _Now_.''

''Becca wasn't in danger,'' Jaime snapped. ''I made sure of that. When I needed help, I called for Steve. I kept her safe.''

''And if Steve hadn't been there? What would've happened to you and Becca?'' Mark's question hung in the air, unanswered, met by Jaime's now-standard silence...and a stony glare. ''So let's talk about Becca.''

''Let's not.''

''What is it about your daughter that's suddenly brought flashbacks into the picture again?''

''You aren't listening to me. _I am declining treatment_.''

''You don't have that option right now. What is it about Becca? Is it her eyes...or maybe her vulnerability?''

''Leave. Me. Alone. I'll go out the window.''

''You could try,'' Mark told her patiently. ''But Security is patrolling the grounds.'' (At least, he hoped they were. This had changed so quickly from getting her physically checked out for an eventuality he'd hoped he'd never use to the procedure happening _right now_ that Mark had to take it on faith that Rudy had come through for him.) ''Your legs would still hold you. Physically, you could make the jump. But Security has been instructed to return you directly to me.''

''This is false imprisonment! Does Steve know you're doing this to me?''

* * *

''What's going on up there, Rudy?'' Steve asked (at almost the same moment his wife had brought up his name).

''I'm not sure,'' Rudy admitted truthfully. He obviously knew more than Steve...but telling him what he _did_ know wouldn't be helpful to Steve - or to Jaime. ''But he's had private sessions with Jaime before.''

''True. This feels different though. It was almost like he was warning me away...''

* * *

''What it is about Becca that provokes such a strong reaction in you?'' Mark persisted. ''You've already admitted to me that you believe she's Michael's child. What makes you think that? Is it her eyes?''

''You might be able to keep me in this room - _for now_,'' Jaime seethed, ''but you can't force me to talk to you.'' She began pacing like a caged animal.

''You're right; I can't. You can just listen - for now - if you'd prefer.''

''Go to hell!''

''You're already there...aren't you?'' Mark said quietly. _Please let me reach you this way...don't make me go on. I will if I have to..._

''You tell me, _Doctor Conrad_!'' Jaime used his name like an obscenity. ''I'm in a locked room...where I don't wanna be...listening to someone I don't wanna listen to...who USED TO be someone I trusted.''

''What is it about Becca's eyes? Their color? Something else? Their shape?''

''Stop it! Just...stop it.''

''You told me it was 'something in your gut' that said she was Michael's. And I explained to you why it might seem that way. But it seems there's still a problem, so I'd like you to tell me why.''

Jaime stood and stared out the window, arms folded, with her back to the room - and especially to Mark. She refused to acknowledge that he'd even spoken. She was leaving him no other choice; he'd have to trust his colleague (a mentor, really) who'd assured him the technique _could_ actually work. It seemed cruel...

Mark mentally ticked off the list of supplies, ascertaining once more that he had everything he needed, then dove in, strictly on faith that he'd have to hurt her to help her. ''You seem determined to focus on the worst case scenario...so let's go there. Talk to me about how you believe she was conceived.''

''No.''

''You feel responsible, don't you? Why? Because you let yourself start to have an emotional affair with Michael in the hospital? Because you felt so threatened in that cabin that you didn't resist him? Was it his eyes that were so threatening? Maybe because they reminded you of Kingsley's eyes? Talk to me about their eyes. _Talk to me about Becca's eyes_.''

''Why are you doing this?'' Jaime asked very quietly.

From the way her shoulders were trembling, Mark knew she was crying. This was going against everything he'd done with Jaime so far, but this time (like it or not) he _needed_ to provoke a reaction. And once he did, they'd be barely getting started...

''It started with Kingsley's eyes, of course,'' Mark went on. ''He _forced_ you to look into his eyes in the kiosk, then again at the top of the coaster when he chained you and left you up there to die. You were _helpless_ and he made sure you knew it! Then he made you look him in the eyes...''

Jaime backed away from the window until she felt the bed behind her, then sank down to perch on the edge of it. Mark watched her carefully. Her entire body quivered as she fought to maintain control - the way he had taught her when nothing was at hand, through deep breathing and positive imagery, he was guessing. Unfortunately, he would have to wrest that control away from her.

''He laughed at you...didn't he? While he was looking into your eyes...while you were so helpless...he laughed at you!''

Jaime laid back on the bed and closed her eyes. ''I need...ICE...now...please...'' she gasped.

Instead, Mark had to force himself to remain in his chair across the room. He was 'in it' now; he had no choice but to keep going and hope it would work. ''Michael laughed at you too...when you were _helpless_...while he forced you to look into his eyes...''

''Please...stop...'' Jaime pleaded softly. Mark doubted she knew she'd said it - and she was likely not even talking to him. Not anymore.

- - - - -


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

''_Helpless_ is an awful feeling, isn't it, Jaime?'' Mark hammered at her (half hating himself for doing it). ''Kingsley left you _helpless_. Michael made sure you felt _helpless_. And Becca...well, Becca IS helpless. Is that the connection? Or does it all go back to their _eyes_? It can't be their hands grabbing at you because Becca isn't able to do that yet.''

He'd just (purposely) hit every one of her known triggers in rapid-fire succession. It went against his every grain to keep this up...but he had to. ''Fear of death? Kingsley took you there in the kiosk, on top of that hill, over that railing...Michael took you there with needles and a gun - and every time you had to look into _their eyes_...''

Mark was no longer waiting for responses from his patient; she was no longer capable of giving any. He eyed her carefully as he kept speaking. She was clearly in the throes of a full flashback, whimpering like a wounded animal and grasping futilely at the bedsheet and the pillow as she cowered from attackers only she could see...

* * *

''Jaime needs me,'' Steve insisted to Rudy. ''I should go up there.''

''You don't want to do that, Steve,'' the doctor told him.

''If you know something, you need to tell me. Please!''

''Mark is trying to help her; you need to trust him enough to let him do that.''

''I need to see my wife. _Now_.'' Without waiting to hear whatever else Rudy might tell him (because the doctor was clearly dancing around the issue), Steve made a bionic run for the stairs. For him, it would be faster than the elevator. He made it to the Third Floor in mere seconds - and the first thing he saw was the pair of armed Security guards outside the (closed) door to Jaime's room.

''I'm sorry, Colonel; you can't go in there,'' one of them told Steve as soon as they spotted him.

''By whose order?'' Steve demanded.

''I'm sorry, Sir.''

Steve opened his mouth to argue further, then a sound from inside made further argument moot (in his eyes). _Jaime screamed_. ''Conrad, what the hell are you doing to her in there?'' Steve shouted, reaching past the guards to pound furiously on the door. The guard grabbed him by the arm. ''That was exactly the wrong move, buddy,'' Steve growled, raising his arm and flinging the Security man (not nearly as hard as he could have) down the hall. ''Try it,'' he snarled at the other one. ''That's my _wife_ in there! You can either go check on your buddy - or I'll throw you over there to join him!'' Reluctantly, the second guard moved to his fallen cohort's side. From inside, Jaime screamed again...and Steve could hear her cries of anguish. He turned the knob, discovered the door was locked and didn't give it another thought before kicking it to splinters.

Jaime was lying on the bed in either the grip of a horrific flashback - or a full seizure. At first glance, it was impossible to tell which was the case. One thing Steve could see for certain was that her therapist was clear across the room and not helping her. For a split-second, he was torn between rushing to his wife's side - or punching Mark's lights out. He chose Jaime.

''_Stop_,'' Mark told him urgently. ''She'll only be hurt worse.'' In what he hoped wouldn't prove a suicidal move, Mark stepped between Steve and the bed. ''Hallway now, please,'' he whispered.

Steve followed him but immediately made a fist and shook it in the therapist's face. ''Give me one good reason why I shouldn't use these_five good reasons_ to get back to my wife,'' he demanded.

''This looks bad -'' Mark acknowledged.

''You're damned right it does!''

''You either trust me...or you don't.''

''Right now, put me firmly into the _Don't_ column, Doc.''

''I understand that...but if you go in there now, you'll only be making things worse. You need to go down to Rudy's office and wait for me there.''

Steve shook his head - and he still hadn't unclenched his fist. ''I don't think so.''

''Do you want your wife back? _Really_ back, to where you aren't afraid to leave her alone with your daughter? Were you even aware that yesterday was your anniversary? Was Jaime? You need to let me finish what I've started here, so you can at least have a belated Anniversary dinner that doesn't have to take place in a psych ward!''

''I swear to God...if you hurt her...'' Steve stalked off down the stairs and slammed back into Rudy's office. ''I just destroyed hospital property. Again.'' Steve announced. ''And if he hurts Jaime in any way, I'll be destroying a certain OSI psychiatrist.''

* * *

''Steve...'' Jaime moaned softly. ''Where's...Steve?''

_She'd heard him_. Mark thought maybe he could use that - and maybe the session was still salvageable. Jaime was like a broken record, 'stuck' in a single groove...and he'd been so close to finding out exactly where she was 'stuck'! Maybe he still could...

''I got rid of Steve,'' Mark told her ominously. He moved a little closer. ''He can't help you now.''

''NOoooo...'' Jaime jumped away from him and Mark feared she'd crash straight through the window - but instead she sank into the corner and cowered in abject terror.

Mark pulled the oxygen mask from the wall and placed it on the bed where it was within his reach, then sat down on the floor near Jaime. He retrieved the briefcase hidden under the bed and popped it open. One way or the other, he'd be needing the contents soon. Even the (very faint) 'pop' of the briefcase latch made her nearly jump right out of her own skin. Once again...he used it. ''You can't get away from me that easily, Jaime.'' (He was banking on the assumption that his words were penetrating her fog - in someone else's voice.) ''You won't get away from me at all. Ever.''

''Get away...from me...Michael! If you...touch me...I'll kill you. I will!''

''You don't have the strength...because I took that from you. Remember?'' If Jaime was casting him in the role, Mark would play it...for now. They were almost _there_...wherever 'there' was. Whether it was her helplessness, the gun, Michael's eyes - or the attack itself - Mark would hit on each one in turn until he found where Jaime was 'stuck'. He touched on each trigger one more time, knowing now that she was hearing Michael's voice (and thus treading cautiously _around_ the actual attack) and none had produced the results he'd been waiting for - that sock-me-in-the-gut knowledge that _this was it_. Jaime was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, trembling violently. Mark was just about to bring her out of it and admit failure - to Jaime, to Rudy, to Steve and (worst of all) to himself. He reached into the briefcase when he saw Jaime unclasp her knees and cradle her arms toward her chest...as if she was holding a baby.

''You can't...have...our baby either...I...I won't let you!''

_**This was it**_**!**

''What baby? Who said anything about a baby?''

''You...did...''

''In the cabin?''

''No...last week.''

Mark uncapped the peppermint and stuck a lemon wedge into Jaime's mouth so when she smelled the oil and automatically recoiled, she'd bite down even without needing the command to 'Bite'. He'd pushed her brutally hard - much harder than he'd thought he could stomach. Would she come out of it intact?

- - - - -


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The peppermint oil assaulted Jaime's nostrils, forcing her to bite the lemon. She blinked rapidly several times...then spat the lemon in Mark's face. ''Damn you...'' she whispered.

''I guess I deserved that,'' Mark told her.

''Where's Steve? He...let you...do this?''

Mark wasn't sure how much of 'this' she actually remembered. ''Let's get you off the floor - and then we'll talk as much as you want. Okay?''

He helped Jaime to her feet and eased her over to her bed. She didn't recoil at his touch, so that was a hopeful sign...then she caught sight of what was left of the door. ''You didn't tell Steve...did you?''

''Tell him what?'' Mark asked carefully.

''That you were...locking me in here. And...other stuff.''

''No, I didn't.'' He decided to get straight to the point; it was, after all, why he'd done this to her in the first place. ''Jaime, when was the last time you saw Michael?''

''Judge's...chambers. When he changed...his plea.''

''Has he contacted you - or tried to contact you - recently?''

''Why would you...think that?'' Jaime asked.

''Because you told me. So...has he? And did he threaten you? You...or Becca?''

''I haven't...talked to Michael,'' she answered honestly.

Mark was puzzled but he let the issue drop (for now). The last thing he wanted was push her into yet another flashback. He'd do some digging on his own and talk with Jaime about it later, when she was stronger. Instead (as he'd promised he would), he began patiently answering Jaime's questions. She remembered that she'd been locked in - and that it felt (to her) like he'd been trying to push her into a flashback. She'd never known him to be deliberately mean before - and the memory shocked her. He admitted that, yes, he'd been working on breaking down her defenses and getting past the brick wall she'd erected around herself. Mercifully, her memories of the session seemed to stop at the point where she'd first requested ice.

She wondered (again) where Steve was - and why Mark hadn't told him what was going to happen. Mark fielded that question honestly as well, explaining that the fewer roadblocks in the way of what he'd set out to do at that point, the better - and he hadn't wanted her to be forewarned. Jaime's most urgent concern was what he'd told her about involuntary commitment and he let her know that he wasn't considering that for her - not anymore - and that she was free to leave at any time. She was not in anyone's custody and the door was not locked. (Indeed - there was no door at all any longer.) He did feel, however, that she could use some rest...and he respectfully asked her permission to give her a sedative. Jaime nodded because (in truth) she was exhausted and some sleep would definitely help her outlook on life. With just a bit of mischief in her eyes, she offered up her right arm before finally giving him her left.

Only when he was certain she was deeply asleep did Mark dare to leave her. He instructed Security to stay _inside_ her room and watch her closely for any signs of distress until her husband arrived. He would be down in Rudy's office, so they could push Jaime's call light (or she could) if there was any sort of change from quiet, peaceful sleep. Then he headed downstairs and let Steve know he could finally go and sit with his wife. The procedure had been a success - although how much of a success still remained to be seen. Once Steve had gone, Mark closed the door and sat down for a badly-needed cup of coffee with Rudy.

''Do I need to have him arrested?'' Rudy wondered.

''Steve? No. Why?''

''He tells me he kicked down a door...and politely moved a guard out of the way. He also threatened you.''

''I'd imagine he did,'' Mark acknowledged. ''But no; I'd say let him slide on it this time. Jaime's doing well now; oriented to time and place and relating well to me. But what Steve saw and heard was pretty awful. In his place, I'd have probably done a lot worse than he did. One thing I need as soon as possible is a list of Marchetti's incoming and outgoing phone calls for the last few weeks - and the same for his mail. A visitor's list too. In as much detail as we can get.''

Rudy thought for a moment. ''I don't have any pull at the prison; I'll call Morrisey...and Oscar.''

The report was phoned in to them within the hour: Michael hadn't made or received any phone calls and had sent no mail. He'd only had one visitor, about a week and a half prior - and their exchange had not been monitored.

''Why the hell not?'' Mark wanted to know.

''Attorney/client privilege,'' Rudy told him. ''His only visitor was Joseph Reinert.''

Upstairs on the Third Floor, Steve hit the call button. Jaime was beginning to dream...and he couldn't wake her! She was talking in her sleep. ''_No...I...I won't let you hurt her! You can't...threaten...my child. You...have no rights...to her. You can't...hurt me...or my family...anymore. I won't let you...so leave me alone!_''

- - - - -


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jaime wasn't in any physical distress, so Rudy and Mark didn't try to wake her. ''She's working through this - on her own, in her sleep,'' Mark whispered to Steve.

''Working through _what_?''

''_Michael..._'' Jaime continued to mumble, ''_...this baby...isn't yours. Leave us alone! Go...away..._''

This time, it was Steve who motioned Mark into the hallway. ''What's going on?'' Steve demanded, taking care to keep his voice low. ''Has Michael been threatening her? Because I'll go up to that prison myself and they'll need a mop and broom by the time I'm done with him!''

''We don't believe he's been contacting her - at least, not directly. His attorney may have, though,'' Mark explained.

''Reinert? That _slimeball_! We'll have Hansen's team bring him in and then I'll -''

''You'll go nowhere near him. We need to find out from Jaime exactly what happened - and then we need to let Morrisey and the legal team handle it. Period.''

''Why didn't Jaime tell us?'' Steve puzzled. ''Or at least...tell me?''

''We'll find that out too.''

From inside the room, Rudy called softly to them; Jaime was waking up.

''Where's Becca?'' she asked as soon as she saw Steve.

''She's fine,'' Steve assured his wife. ''She's with the nurses; she's safe. You were dreaming.''

''Yeah...''

''You were also talking in your sleep,'' Steve continued. Mark shot him a look that said _tread very carefully_.

''I...was?''

''To Michael.''

''Oh. I told him...in my dream...to stop bothering me. I don't want him in my head anymore...''

''Jaime, has Michael been trying to contact you?'' Steve asked.

''No. Not...exactly.''

''Remember when I promised that I'd never lie to you? Well, Sweetheart, I need you to tell me what's going on. Is someone threatening you...or Becca?''

''Both,'' Jaime admitted, very quietly. ''But they're not gonna hurt our daughter. I won't let them.''

''Neither will I. But I can't protect either of you if you keep things from me. Why didn't you tell me?''

''Why didn't you tell me?'' Jaime countered.

''Huh?''

''He...the attorney...he called you first. He said you didn't want me to know about the lawsuits. Why, Steve?''

Slowly, the Austins began to compare notes. Jaime had been badly misled; Michael's attorney had never contacted Steve. He had played on Jaime's insecurities in ways that could've only come from his client, telling her that her own husband thought she was too weak and too sick to handle her own legal matters. Reinert had told her that Michael intended to prove that Jaime and Steve were unfit parents - and that the baby was in sufficient danger to be removed from the home immediately while the charges were being proven in court. Michael's attorney had also threatened that they'd be exposed as OSI operatives in open court (since it was one of the reasons to be given as to why Becca wasn't safe in their home). Jaime had been so terrified by the threats and so angry with Steve for - she thought - keeping it from her that she'd clammed up and almost successfully blocked it from her mind entirely as simply too painful and frightening to consider.

''He can't do that...can he Steve?'' Jaime pleaded.

''Sweetheart, if he had grounds - which he _does not_ - he wouldn't be calling to tell either one of us about it. He'd have filed the paperwork and started pulling us through the courts. What Reinert did...and what it sounds like Michael helped him to do...that's Witness Tampering. And neither one of them is getting away with it.''

''Steve?'' Jaime began hesitantly (already suspecting what his answer would be). ''Do what you want to Reinert. Well, within legal boundaries, of course - but...I wanna deal with Michael.''

''NO!'' Steve and both doctors told her in near-perfect unison.

''I don't mean right now. Not even this week,'' Jaime clarified. ''I'll need to work with Mark and be sure my head is on straight again first. But Michael feels I started this; he told me that more than once or twice. So it's only right that I end it.''

''I don't like it; not at all,'' Steve told her. ''Look what happened the last time you met with him alone.''

''Yeah...well now he's in prison. A _Federal prison_ - and no amount of conning or slick words are gonna get him out. Besides, almost all of what he put me through was on _his_ terms. The harassment, the threats - and the time I have to waste worrying about him - they're gonna stop. On MY terms.''

''Tell her she can't possibly do this,'' Steve asked both Mark and Rudy.

''It might be a good outlet for her - somewhere a little further down the road,'' Mark told him. ''But Jaime, rest assured I will not clear you to go ahead with this without a lot of work and preparation...and even then only if I believe 200 percent that you can handle it.''

Jaime nodded. ''Deal.''

''Wait a minute,'' Steve put in, ''we're _partners_, right? Doesn't that mean I get to say 'deal' too?'' He looked at his wife, at the clarity he saw in her eyes...and the firm set of her jawline. ''And...we'll talk about it,'' he conceded. ''For now, with these doctors' kind permission, let's get our daughter and go home.''

- - - - -


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The doctors kept Jaime for a few more hours, just to be on the safe side, but the change in her was already far more dramatic than even Mark had expected. She'd come out of this with more mental clarity and peace of mind than he'd ever seen in her, since being called to begin treating her so many months ago. How much of this was due to the hellish procedure she'd endured and how much was simply because she'd been honest with Steve, he couldn't say. Perhaps one had given her the necessary courage for the other.

Mark's elation over this initial success was nearly overshadowed by his enormous sense of guilt. Did the end really justify the means? He had emotionally manhandled his own patient. He'd exploited her vulnerabilities...and he knew that in spite of the appearance of so much progress, she could also be headed for a crash-and-burn.

Rudy rubbed his eyes and wondered what he'd just allowed to take place in his hospital. Steve had committed several felonies; quite possibly, Mark had too. He hadn't said anything to the others (he'd been asked not to) but Oscar had been alarmed enough by what he'd gathered from the phone call that he'd be flying out first thing in the morning. Even if Jaime was alright, there would still be plenty to answer for...

Oscar made a few phone calls (not liking at all what he was beginning to find out), tied up a few loose ends in his DC office and decided to try for a few hours of sleep before his flight to the West Coast. On his way home, he contemplated the situation as he saw it. Apparently, his best operative had committed Assault and Battery, Destruction of Government Property, God-only-knew what else...and it wasn't the first time. Whether or not charges were being pressed, this was _serious_. Oscar resolved to keep an open mind. He would hear Steve's side of the story before he suspended him.

* * *

Steve was surprised that he'd been allowed to bring Jaime home; he'd thought (from those few awful moments he'd glimpsed after kicking in the door) that she'd at least have to stay overnight, if not longer. Outwardly, she gave the impression that she was feeling much better...but was she? She was no longer the apparition of herself who'd been wandering the house aimlessly for the last week - but he could see in her eyes that his wife was still trying to find an emotional foothold.

Together, they brought Becca into the house and snuggled on the sofa, luxuriating in simply being a family of three once again. ''Helluva day for you,'' Steve noted gently.

''Yeah. And you...he didn't tell you what was happening?''

''I might not have allowed it if he had. But if it helped you..._did_ it help you?''

''I...think so. Scared me too...so much. Mark has never talked to me...like that. I know he was trying to 'break down my walls' but it was awful, Steve! I thought he was supposed to help us avoid flashbacks...and he pushed me into one. But once it happened, he was right there...helping me.''

_No...no, he wasn't_, Steve wanted to tell her. The biggest chunk of what had happened was missing from Jaime's memory; it was probably a blessing. From what he'd heard and seen, Steve was no longer sure he trusted the OSI psychiatrist. Becca began to cry, sounding more and more like the lusty, angry cry of a healthy infant. Steve got up to retrieve a bottle and when he came back, Jaime was giggling as she played with the baby's toes. She was too cheerful, given everything she'd been through in less than 24 hours. Was it a facade, put up out of fear of whatever Mark had done happening again? Post-hypnotic suggestion? Some weird drug that Steve hadn't been told about?

''Can I...feed her?'' Jaime asked. ''Is that...okay?''

''Of course you can.'' Steve handed her the bottle and tried to give the impression that he _wasn't_ watching her very, very closely. Jaime cradled their daughter and looked directly at her face, smiling proudly (happily?) as she gazed into Becca's eyes. Everything (finally) seemed right with the world...but was it?

Later, after they'd settled Becca into her crib and stood arm in arm watching her sleep, Steve helped Jaime get comfortable in their own bed and then crawled in beside her. As much as he desperately needed to be close to her, he found himself afraid to touch her - afraid of disturbing her new and probably fragile sense of self. In the morning, they'd be heading back to National for the doctors to give Jaime another round of check-ups - and Steve intended to find out _exactly_ what Mark had done before he let the therapist get anywhere near his wife.

* * *

''We should all be so healthy,'' Rudy told Jaime when he'd finished his portion of her exam.

''So you can tune me back up then?'' she asked eagerly.

''Soon, Honey; maybe another week or two. Let's not rush it.'' While Jaime's body was healthy enough to support full-strength bionics again, Rudy wanted to be sure she also had the necessary emotional stability. A little more time would hopefully give him a clearer picture.

Meanwhile, Steve had sought out Mark and found him in the cafeteria. ''We need to talk,'' he began. Mark nodded; he'd known this was coming. They headed for his office and shut the door. ''What happened yesterday?'' Steve demanded. ''You locked my wife in a room, threatened her with involuntary commitment and then pushed her straight into a flashback! And now suddenly she's cheerful, laughing - and good with the baby. I'm not sure if you gave me Jaime back...or a Stepford Wife. When you first told me about this being a possibility, you called it 'radical' and 'dangerous'. Is Jaime just a science experiment for you? Care to fill in the blanks..._Doctor_?''

''Sit down, Steve,'' Mark said calmly.

''I'd rather stand. And I don't need coffee, either. Don't try to placate me. _What did you do to my wife_?''

- - - - -


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

''How is Jaime this morning?'' Mark asked. ''Any nightmares, problems during the night?''

''Don't change the subject, Doc. Answer my question!'' Steve seethed.

''You're right. What I took Jaime through yesterday is experimental...radical...and dangerous. It also appears to have _worked_. Just how well it worked, it's too soon to tell. But it's very important that you see whatever emotions she's showing you as _valid_. If she's happy, let her be happy. Better yet, be happy _with_ her. If she needs to cry, scream, vent...those are all perfectly normal too.''

''Wonderful; more psychological mumbo-jumbo. How about some _answers_ now? You're saying you _experimented_ on _my wife_!''

''I pushed Jaime into a flashback. I'm sure you know that by now. I hit every one of her triggers...and I hit them hard.''

''You son-of-a -''

''When she asked me for ice...I kept pushing her harder instead. Pushed her deeper into her traumas than she's probably ever gone before - and I made sure she _stayed_ there. I had 'grounding' materials where they were easily accessible - also tranquilizers, a sedative and coumadin - but I chose not to use them. I needed to make sure she stayed in as deep a flashback state as her body and mind could tolerate for as long as possible. And then I pushed her even more, into a state of temporary psychosis. That was when you heard her scream...and kicked the door in.''

''You're lucky I didn't kick your _face_ in! You had no right!''

''I was trying to give you your wife back, to give Becca her mother back - and to give Jaime her _self_ back. You very nearly brought everything crashing down when you broke into the room -''

''I should've picked Jaime up from that bed and carried her out of the room - and _away from you_!''

''If you had, that temporary psychosis could very well have been permanent. You might have lost Jaime for good...and had to raise Becca as a single father,'' Mark told him.

''Because of what _you_ did to her!''

''You could look at it that way. And as the person who 'did this to her', I need to go and check on her now - to see how she's faring 24 hours later.'' Mark got up and headed for the door. He'd turned the knob and opened it when Steve grabbed him and 'helped' him into a chair.

''You're not going anywhere near my wife!'' Steve growled.

''Pal, you and I need to have a little talk,'' Oscar said from the other side of the open door. ''And Mark, they need you upstairs.''

''Upstairs? Is something wrong with Jaime?'' Steve asked anxiously.

''Mind if we use your office?'' Oscar asked Mark, who nodded his assent on his way out the door.

''Oscar, if Jaime's in trouble, I think a 'little talk' can wait -''

''This one can't,'' Oscar said quietly.

''The hell it can't!'' Steve headed for the door - and four Security guards moved to block his way.

''I guess we can add another Assault and Battery charge onto your laundry list,'' his boss noted.

''Am I..._under arrest_?''

''Not yet.''

''Well if you're gonna arrest someone, go after that _quack_ who calls himself a shrink! Do you have any idea what he did to Jaime yesterday?''

''Sit down, Pal,'' Oscar told him. This time, Steve had no choice but to comply. ''I've already spoken to Rudy and yes - I have some concerns over Mark's new brand of 'therapy'. But that doesn't alter the fact that you seem to be working on a rap sheet that's longer than both of my arms put together. _Felonies_, Steve. Multiple felonies! You might be my most valuable agent - in more ways than one - but that doesn't mean you're above the law.''

''_He experimented on my wife_!''

''Did it work? According to Rudy, Jaime is already showing remarkable progress - and I could remind you that you were once an experiment yourself.''

''You said you have concerns about Mark...and yet you just let him go upstairs to see Jaime!''

''That's right; I did. Because I'm keeping an open mind. The OSI is all about experiments, Pal. You and Jaime are prime examples - and then there are experimental weapons, scientific experiments...I could go on and on. Why not an experimental therapy - if it works?''

''That's a big 'if'.''

''Like I said, I'm keeping an open mind - just like I'm keeping an open mind here and not immediately suspending you and having you arrested. Rudy doesn't want charges pressed, which makes you extraordinarily lucky. Now you need to convince me I shouldn't press those charges myself.''

* * *

Upstairs, Jaime was on her bed, surrounded by her three medical doctors - and cowering from Doctor Corinth who'd been trying to examine her ear. ''Stay away from me!'' she insisted tearfully. ''I know what you're gonna do to me! Just...leave me alone!''

It had come out of the blue. Jaime had been upbeat with Doctor Hammond, had laughed and even joked a little with Rudy and had seemed alright during Doctor Corinth's checks on her reflexes and balance. But when he'd moved closer to check out her right ear (since he'd been the one to help Rudy fix it after Michael had tampered with it and he'd been studying with Rudy ever since), Jaime's emotions had gone wild. The doctors had managed to keep her on the bed (so far) but even their gentle hands restraining her sent Jaime into more of a panic.

When Mark hurried into the room, he took in the scene, listened to the words behind his patient's anguished cries and then approached the bed. ''Let go of her,'' he instructed quietly. The other doctors took a step back. ''Jaime, it's Mark. Where are you right now?''

''My bed...at National. And he...Michael...wants to work on my ear again. Don't let him...please!''

''That's fine,'' Mark assured her. ''Our first concern is to keep you safe.''

''He...he wants to...hurt me...all over again!''

''Jaime, do you see me?'' Mark asked.

''Y-y-yes...''

''Good. I want you to take some slow, deep breaths for me. Very good.'' Mark turned to Hammond. ''Becca's down in the ICU, visiting with the nurses. I need you to go and get her, please.''

''Now? With her mother...are you sure?''

''Trust me, please. Go and get Becca!''

- - - - -


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

''Steve, when that door opened and I personally witnessed you forcing Mark - a government employee - into a chair, that sent this into an entirely different realm,'' Oscar told him.

''If you'd heard what he told me...he's lucky I didn't force him through a _wall_!''

''Not helping your own case here, Pal. If you felt it was warranted, you could've gone to Rudy and filed a complaint - or even called me. What you canNOT do is -''

''Yeah, I know what I'm not supposed to do. But what he did to Jaime is criminal - or at the very least, malpractice!''

''There are appropriate channels to go through - procedures to follow! Throwing a guard -''

''I tossed him.''

''And kicking down a solid wood door - I wouldn't call those the channels or procedures I expect my employees to adhere to!''

''Try hearing someone you love screaming - a blood-chilling scream like she was being killed - from the other side of a locked door and then talk to me about 'proper channels and procedures'!'' Steve fired back angrily. He could feel his own edges beginning to blur, just a little bit, so Steve forced himself to take several long, deep breaths and successfully fought it off, forgetting for the moment just who had taught him to do that. ''Oscar,'' he continued, trying to stay calm, ''what's happening upstairs...with Jaime?''

* * *

''I'm back,'' Doctor Hammond said quietly from where he stood in Jaime's doorway with Becca.

Mark got up and went to the doorway to whisper the rest of his instructions, then returned to Jaime. He perched on the very edge of the bed while Hammond (still holding the baby) sat in the nearby chair. Jaime had faded considerably in the time it'd taken Hammond to go and get Becca. Her eyes were still wide and terror-stricken and while she was no longer flailing or cowering, she didn't seem able to focus on her surroundings.

''Jaime, it's Mark. Can you tell me where you are now?''

''Trinidad. He has...that thing...and he wants...to look in my ear...except he's really...gonna hurt me.''

_The otoscope_! It hit Mark that this was probably the first time Jaime had consciously seen an otoscope since Michael had used one in the hotel room in Trinidad. Ever since then, she'd been ill, unconscious or a different (wall mounted) instrument had been utilized. The sight of the otoscope when she was still emotionally fragile had tipped Jaime over the brink...and now Mark would bring her back.

''And you can hear my voice, right?'' Mark asked. Jaime nodded. ''Who am I?''

''You're...Mark.''

''Am I in Trinidad?''

''No.''

''Good. Now I want you to use the sound of my voice as a focal point. Let that hotel room fade away until you can see my face.'' He watched as Jaime's breathing slowed visibly and she tried to find focus. ''Do you see my face?''

''Sort of...''

Mark nodded to Hammond, who stood up cradling Becca in his arms, out of Jaime's reach but where she'd soon be in her line of vision. ''Jaime, I want you to turn your head to the left,'' Mark told her. He waited expectantly...and Jaime smiled. ''Who do you see now?'' he asked.

''That's Becca.''

''And where are you?''

''National Medical. Can I...hold her?''

''In a little while,'' Mark promised. ''For now, she needs to go back downstairs and visit with the nurses while we talk. Is that okay?'' Jaime nodded, but reached out her arms and Hammond lowered the baby to receive a kiss from her mother before he took her back to the nurses.

Mark turned to Corinth. ''Do me a favor,'' he requested. ''Could you go and stand over by the far wall, please? And then take the otoscope and hold it in the palms of your hands.'' Mark eyed Jaime, who was looking directly at Corinth. Her face remained neutral. ''Take a couple of steps closer,'' Mark instructed. ''Now a couple more.''

Corinth was nearly at the foot of the bed, still extending the otoscope in his hands. ''Jaime, does this frighten you?'' Mark asked.

''No.''

''Come over to the side of the bed and keep the palms of your hands open,'' Mark told Corinth.

Jaime flinched just slightly, took a deep breath and announced ''I'm...okay...''

''Good,'' Mark affirmed. ''Is Michael anywhere in this room?'' Jaime shook her head, her eyes riveted to the otoscope. ''Very good. You're doing fine. Now...will you let Doctor Corinth look at your ear?'' Jaime hesitated, fear flashing across her face. ''Rudy can hold your hand and I'll hold the other one. Let's get you past this...okay?''

Finally, Jaime nodded. ''I trust you,'' she whispered.

When it was over, Jaime was flashing a weak but very proud smile. Corinth was the first to take his leave, to head down to the lab. Rudy kissed Jaime's cheek, gave Mark a smile and nod of approval and prepared to leave as well. ''Rudy, can you check on..._my office_...please, on your way to the lab?''

''Will I have to stay here?'' Jaime asked, after Rudy had gone.

''How do you feel about that? Would you like to sleep for a little while and we'll talk afterward?''

Jaime nodded and Mark reached for a sedative, curious how she'd respond to the sight of a needle (another object she sometimes associated with Michael) but it didn't seem to faze her.

''Yesterday...'' she said softly as the drug began to kick in, ''...it must've been hard for you too. I know...you were...helping me. Thank you.''

Mark smiled at her as Jaime's eyelids fluttered closed...then they snapped wide open again. ''Mark,'' she said more urgently, ''what makes a person _SNAP_?''

Rudy reached Mark's office and was puzzled to find the door closed and no light appearing from underneath. He'd promised to check it (although he didn't know for what...or who) so he used his pass key to open the door. He turned on the light - and gasped.

- - - - -


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

''_What makes a person SNAP_?''

Jaime was fighting sedation to hear his answer; Mark chose his words with great caution. ''I'm not sure exactly what you're asking me. Do you mean in general or something more specific?''

''Well...Michael was so talented, so intelligent and he could've...pretty much written his own ticket in life, you know? How could he be perfectly fine - he saved my life more than once and saved Steve's life too - how could somebody like that just suddenly...do what he did?''

''Jaime, with high intelligence and great success there comes even greater responsibility - and an enormous amount of pressure, from the outside world and even more so, from within. And when someone achieves that success at an early age, when some people would say they've had everything on a silver platter with a golden spoon, they may have been coping with all of the 'everyday' pressures and then one single disappointment - if it's severe enough in their eyes - is enough to make them snap and act completely out of character.''

''A disappointment like...someone you love turning away from you, just when you thought you had them back?'' Jaime asked sadly.

''You can't blame yourself. Most likely, things had been building to a crescendo within him for many years.''

''These...episodes I've been having...the flashbacks and nightmares and...stuff...does it all mean that...I'm gonna snap...and go crazy?''

''First of all, consider the word 'crazy' permanently banned from your vocabulary. And second, no; you aren't going to snap - in the context that we're talking about - because you have outlets available to you to release your pain and fears...and hopefully you'll continue to use them. To be honest, severe or prolonged trauma _can_ cause someone to 'snap' in the way you were asking about, but only when they feel they have no outlet, no way to get rid of the pressure and pain. When you turned away from Steve and turned away from therapy then yes - I was very concerned about you.''

''That's why...yesterday happened.''

''That's right.''

''Thank...you...'' Finally, Jaime gave in to the sedative and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

To Rudy, it seemed like Security was taking forever to get there. It left him little to do but stand...and survey the damage. Two chairs were overturned (one of them broken) and a corresponding side table was reduced to a pile of rubble. Mark's diplomas and commendations had been pulled from the walls and thrown in the garbage beside his desk. Worst of all, there was a small amount of blood on the floor near the doorway.

''What the hell took you so long?'' Rudy snapped when a pair of flustered and out of breath Security men rushed in.

''Sorry, Doctor Wells. We've got our hands full right now.''

''Why wasn't I paged? And _what happened here_?''

''It was Colonel Austin - he went on a rampage, Sir. He's down in the conference room with Mr. Goldman now and one of the doctors from the ER. Most of our men are outside the door as a blockade, just in case. Shot calmed him down pretty well though.''

''Who's hurt?'' Rudy asked.

''Colonel gashed his arm on something - the table, I think. He's getting stitched up now.''

''Thank you.'' Rudy hurried down the hall to the conference room and the squadron of guards stepped aside to allow him to go in. ''What have you done?'' he asked Steve in a sad, wounded voice. ''Why?''

The attending physician finished wrapping gauze around Steve's upper arm, nodded respectfully to Rudy and looked relieved to be leaving the conference room. Steve stared stonily at the wall. Oscar was beyond livid. ''I know you've been through hell that most people can't imagine,'' he told Steve (with a quiet anger that was somehow more effective than if he'd been shouting). ''That's why you're not being hauled out of here in handcuffs - at least, not yet. But your conduct in that office was reprehensible.'' He turned to Rudy. ''I know enough about Mark's work to know that this was no flashback. This was nothing short of a grown man having a fit of temper. He decided the diplomas on that wall were undeserved and started ripping them down. When Security moved in to stop him, instead of going quietly he decided to bust up the furniture.''

''The man doesn't deserve office space - or to call himself a doctor,'' Steve grumbled. ''And after everything he's done, he certainly shouldn't be allowed anywhere near my wife.''

Rudy pulled up a chair and sat down. ''You might change your mind about that when you hear what I just witnessed up there...''

* * *

Mark sat and watched Jaime sleep. She showed no further signs of distress. The episode had been frightening (she had never flashed back to a location other than her original traumas before) but it was over quickly, proving that she was still quite amenable to therapy and indeed was making excellent progress. From the procedure the day before, Mark knew that Jaime had worked through most of what had happened with Kingsley and even though the occasional trouble with that would still crop up from time to time, her issue now was with Michael. She'd had no connection with Kingsley - but with Michael, it had been _personal_. For the next few days she was likely to be exceptionally vulnerable to anything (such as an otoscope) that reminded her of the young doctor and what he had done but Mark's hope (and firm belief) was that Jaime would find her footing again, work through her troubles and come out even stronger for it.

He used the phone in the next room to re-open Jaime's hospital file, formally admitting her so the Third Floor could be staffed with nurses to keep an eye on her. He could discharge her in a few hours if he and Rudy decided to send her home. Then he headed downstairs to see how Steve was faring with Oscar.

- - - - -


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

''Fine,'' Steve acknowledged when Rudy was finished. ''So he pulled her out of another episode - but it's one she probably wouldn't have had if he hadn't _experimented_ on her! Jaime is not a science project...and she needs me right now!'' Steve stood up...and Oscar put a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the chair. ''See now, when I do that, it's Assault and Battery - but it's perfectly acceptable for you -''

''You're leaving me no choice, Steve,'' Oscar told him. He removed a set of handcuffs from his belt. ''Consider yourself in formal custody.''

''Handcuffs, Oscar? Really?''

''_Titanium_ handcuffs. If you try to break them you'll only hurt yourself.'' Reluctantly (but firmly) he secured Steve to the chair. ''We believe Michael created them to restrain Jaime at the cabin. Never thought I'd really have to use them.''

''Dammit, Oscar, you can't do this!'' Steve protested, pulling at the cuffs.

''You're about one more word from suspension and the inside of a jail cell,'' Oscar warned.

''Let me talk to him,'' Mark said calmly from the door.

''I don't think that's a good idea,'' Rudy interjected.

''Alone, please,'' Mark requested.

Oscar shook his head. ''Definitely not.''

Mark stepped into the conference room and Steve pulled harder on the handcuffs, causing the chair legs to _thud_ against the floor. ''His problem is with me,'' Mark continued. ''We need to work through it now. And please close the door on your way out.''

Rudy sighed. As risky as it was, this might be Steve's last chance at redemption. He handed Mark his datacom. ''We'll be right across the hall in my office,'' he told the therapist, ''and Security will remain outside the door. Keep your finger on that red button and don't hesitate to press it if you need to.''

''We'll be fine,'' Mark said evenly, already trying to make a sullen, angry Steve meet his gaze.

''Don't try anything,'' Oscar warned Steve, ''or you might find yourself in the cell next to Michael's.'' His voice softened...just slightly. ''Let him help you, Pal; your wife and daughter need you.'' He and Rudy left, closing the door behind them (against their better judgment).

''I saw my office,'' Mark said quietly. ''Quite a statement you made in there.''

''I wasn't finished.''

''Then why don't you _tell_ me, instead of taking it out on innocent furniture?'' Mark's question was met with a silent, furious glare. ''You feel I put Jaime in danger - and you're right. I did. I pushed her right to the brink of her sanity and watched her teeter there - but only because I knew I could pull her back again. _Really_, truly back. And isn't that what you wanted - and what Becca _needs_ - Jaime standing on solid ground, on her own two feet?''

''You should've told me!''

''So you could try and stop me? So you could've taken Jaime home and probably lost her forever? You're conveniently forgetting that she was already in danger - grave, serious danger - of harming herself or Becca...or even you.''

''That didn't give you the right to endanger her further! My wife isn't an entry in your -''

''I'd like you to start calling her by name instead of saying 'my wife' like she was your possession,'' Mark stated.

''I don't give a rat's behind what you'd like! Besides, Jaime just had another flashback, from what they tell me. So what you call 'therapy' and I call abuse...it obviously didn't work!''

''Yes, she did have another episode. She may have another one tonight...or tomorrow...and I can virtually guarantee those won't be the last ones. She's progressing by leaps and bounds though. How far do you think it'll set her back if you're thrown out of the OSI in disgrace - and quite possibly sent to prison? Is that what you want for your family?''

''Of course not!'' Steve shot back.

''Then we agree on something; that's a start. So let's go from there. The way I see it, the only way to get you back to your family is to deal with the anger you've let build inside you for too long without any pressure valve to let it go.''

''Have I had a choice?''

''Yes, you have; many choices, in fact. You chose a bottle and that didn't work for you. Breaking furniture...well, you see where that got you.''

''Your point is...?'' Steve asked stubbornly.

''You need healthy outlets. And you need to let yourself lean on others instead of always feeling you have to be the strong one. You're in pain too.''

''If I wasn't cuffed to this chair, you'd be the one in pain! And I have nothing more to say.''

* * *

The ICU nurses had been watching Becca while Steve was still in Mark's office. Suddenly, the baby was wide awake...and inconsolable. She refused a bottle, spitting out the nipple and no amount of cuddling or cajoling from the nurses could get her to stop crying. ''She needs Dad,'' one of the nurses suggested. When they discovered that wasn't possible, they did the only thing they could do; they took the squalling infant up to the Third Floor, not realizing her mother was under sedation.

Jaime's maternal instinct broke through the fog of the medicine she'd been given as soon as the nurses stepped off the elevator and she sat up in bed and hit her call light to signify she was awake. Becca calmed almost instantly when placed gently into her mother's waiting arms. Jaime hummed softly to her, cradling her closely until the baby was finally asleep. Then...it hit her. Normally, Steve would've either been seated at her bedside or downstairs with Becca; he was obviously neither.

''Where's Steve?'' she asked quietly, a different instinct kicking in now.

''He's...downstairs,'' one of the nurses hedged.

''What aren't you telling me? Because I'm gonna find out, one way or the other.''

''There's been...a bit of a problem.''

''You need to take me to him. Now, please.''

The knock on the conference room door was a distraction Mark didn't need. ''No interruptions!'' he called out. The knock persisted. ''Not right now!''

The door opened anyway, and the Security guards parted as Jaime was wheeled in. Mark looked at her with surprise. ''Let me talk to him, please,'' she requested. Mark nodded...and the Austins were left alone to talk. ''What are you trying to do to us, Steve?'' Jaime demanded.

''I'm...sorry.''

''Sorry isn't gonna cut it if Oscar and Rudy decide to throw you in jail, is it? If you're fired - and locked up - that would mean I'd get all the assignments that normally would be split between us. Where does that leave our daughter? _What were you thinking?!_''

''Mark..._hurt you_...'' Steve answered. ''Just like Kingsley and Michael...''

''Wrong. They hurt me to cause pain. Mark hurt me, yes - but to _help_ me! Do you see the difference?''

''I couldn't help you. I couldn't...protect you.''

''It's not your job in life to protect me. You don't need to stand in front of me and field whatever the fates throw at us. You just have to...be next to me, facing things together. And we can't do that if you're...in handcuffs or...in a prison cell.''

''You're right.''

Jaime smiled. ''You should know by now...''

''Yeah; you usually are.''

- - - - -


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

''So...will you talk to Mark then,'' Jaime requested, putting a hand on Steve's arm, ''and let him help you?''

''No. I'll talk to Oscar and Rudy; I'll even apologize to them. But -''

''But nothing! Look Austin, I can match you 'stubborn' for 'stubborn' - and you know it. I talked to Rudy and Oscar; I know what happened...what you did. And I know how you think. Yes...you'd be giving up a bit of your macho pride by talking to Mark - but if you don't, you're giving up a whole lot more. You're giving up on your family...on our life together! 'Cause Rudy's really upset, Oscar's spitting bullets...and if I know Mark, he's over there right now, going to bat for you.''

''Somehow, I doubt that,'' Steve grumbled.

''If you won't do it for yourself...will you do it for me...and for Becca? Please?''

Steve looked into Jaime's eyes, saw tears forming - and knew that this time _he_ had put them there. It melted his reserves and his heart. ''Okay. Alright. I'll try, anyway.''

Jaime picked up the datacom from the conference table. ''Tell Mark he can c'mon back,'' she transmitted.

''Are you alright?'' Steve asked, noticing how she'd slurred the last sentence.

''Worry about that later. Let's take care of _you_ now.''

There was a knock and then the door opened. ''Do you want someone to wheel you back upstairs?'' Mark asked Jaime.

''I'm sure there are things you'd rather she not hear, huh, Doc?'' Steve said bitterly.

''I was thinking more in terms of her comfort - and that you might prefer to talk privately,'' Mark told him, refusing to rise to the bait.

''I'll stay,'' Jaime told them both. Mark closed the door and set his briefcase down just inside.

''I'm sorry, Doc,'' Steve began (mindful of Jaime's eyes on him - and of her expectations). ''About your office, I mean. I should've filed a formal complaint instead of busting things up. I still might.''

''You'd be within your right to do that,'' Mark told him.

''Steve, for God's sake...why?'' Jaime blurted out.

''She doesn't know yet...does she, Doc?''

''Not all of it, no,'' Mark acknowledged. ''I think she's ready to hear it though, if you'd like to tell her.''

''Taking the coward's way out?'' Steve shot back. ''Sorry,'' he added, after a reproachful look from Jaime. Slowly, toning down his anger somewhat for Jaime's sake, Steve began filling her in about what he had witnessed when he'd kicked the door down...and what Mark had told him the procedure had entailed.

Mark let Steve tell the story as he saw it, only interrupting when Steve strayed from stating his viewpoint to misstating the facts completely. Jaime listened silently, taking it all in. ''Okay; that was ugly,'' Jaime said when they'd both finished. ''And I'm glad I don't remember most of it. Steve...from what you said you saw, I'm surprised you didn't break more than a door -''

''See!'' Steve exclaimed pointedly.

''But you also need to think about something. We've been working with Mark for over a year now and he's never been anything other than straightforward and kind. For him to do what he did...it was probably harder on him than on either one of us because unlike you he was there for the whole thing - and unlike me, he remembers it. He _helped_ me; I can already feel that. So can we please move on now and get back to _helping you_?''

''I'm sorry, Doc,'' Steve told him. ''This time, I actually mean it. I'd shake your hand if it wasn't for this fancy set of bracelets.''

''Steve, you've been angry for a lot longer than the last 24 hours,'' Mark noted, ''or even the last week. You've been angry since long before Becca was born.''

''I think at least part of that anger is at me,'' Jaime said very quietly.

''That's not true, Sweetheart.''

''It is,'' Jaime insisted.

''Tell him why you think so,'' Mark suggested.

''You blame me...for what happened in the cabin...with Michael. Because...because of what happened between Michael and me...four years ago...and because of what happened...while I was in the hospital.''

''We worked through that already,'' Steve reminded her. ''And we moved past it.''

''Not all of it,'' Jaime said sadly. ''I think...Michael was transmitting when I told him...that I could...'' Jaime swallowed hard. ''...when I told him I could feel...how good it was...that he was wonderful...I think...you heard that...but it was part of the role...I didn't think he'd really...''

''No...no, I didn't hear that!'' Steve growled. ''I thought you didn't remember what he did - or now it sounds like I should say _what the two of you did_! You always told me you'd never use sex as a weapon in your OSI work, not even to get a confession! I guess it's a little different when it's Michael we're talking about, huh?'' He stood up and in one easy motion swung his cuffed hands and the chair into the conference table, smashing them both. Jaime's scream of fear had no effect on him. Furiously, he beat his still cuffed wrists against the broken table. ''I'll give you an annulment to be with Michael, if that's what you really want. Apparently, it is!''

''Steve...no...'' she sobbed.

''Have fun going up there every visiting day and waving to him from the other side of the glass. But know this: I'll fight with everything I have before I let you take Becca! And no court in the free world will give her to you when you're married to a convicted felon who's never gonna breathe free air again!'' So blinded by rage that he was no longer thinking beyond his own pain, Steve reached back, grabbed a chunk of the broken conference table and sent it smashing into the wall.

Mark had seen enough. He reached for his briefcase, took out a needle and plunged it into Steve's arm...just as Security opened the door and flooded inside, guns drawn, with Oscar in the lead.

- - - - -


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

''Steve...I love you!'' Jaime sobbed brokenly as Oscar and the Security team forced him out out the conference room. ''Mark, can't you do something?''

Mark knelt on the floor in front of Jaime's wheelchair. ''He'll be unconscious within minutes; he won't even know where they're taking him.''

''Where..._are_ they...taking him?''

Rudy was finally able to make his way through the jumbled mess of people in the hallway and he placed a comforting, paternal arm around Jaime's trembling shoulders. ''Did he hurt you, Honey?''

''No...I...Rudy, you have to...stop them! Tell them...that's it's all my fault...''

''Jaime,'' Mark said gently, ''none of this is your fault. None of it, do you hear me? Rudy...I'll take care of getting her upstairs and settled; I know you have other things to attend to.''

''Other...things?'' Jaime gasped. ''Oh no...you're tuning him down...aren't you?''

''We have to, Honey,'' Rudy told her. ''At least temporarily.''

''And then...what happens to him?''

* * *

Several hours later, Steve woke with a groan into a world that seemed almost surreal. He recognized the thin metal bench and the reinforced walls that had been constructed in a way that made them look like they were closing in - but usually he was the one standing smugly against the wall, questioning or railing at the prisoner on the bench. This time, he was the one in shackles...and the person leaning against the wall was one of the last people Steve wanted to see. ''_Get out_,'' he snarled at the man he now considered an intruder.

''Are you proud of yourself?'' Mark asked him.

''I said _get out_.''

Mark was unfazed. ''Do you realize what you've done? Do you even care?''

''Is Jaime...alright?''

''Shouldn't you have considered her feelings a few hours ago? She made the nurses bring her from her bed down to you - to help you - and you turned on her! You wanted total honesty and when you got it, you couldn't handle it. You proved to Jaime that you can't be trusted with the whole truth without blowing your stack; exactly what she was afraid of!''

''I really...messed up.''

''That's the understatement of the decade, Steve.''

''You know,'' Steve grumbled, ''I'm sure Oscar's waiting to read me 110 versions of the Riot Act. I owe Rudy an apology - and I may never be able to make this up to Jaime. But one person I don't have to answer to is you!''

''You're right; you don't. In fact, I'll leave right now if you want me to,'' Mark offered.

''Go then.''

''But if I do, you'll likely find yourself on a cell block with Marchetti and Chris Williams.''

''Where all the burned-out former OSI employees go to die, I guess,'' Steve shot back.

''If you're lucky, you might get out in time to see Becca graduate from high school...or maybe college. Is that what you want for yourself - and for your daughter? You said you've really made a mess of things. Wouldn't you rather learn how to prevent these 'messes' instead of having to try and clean them up afterward?''

''Leave. Me. Alone.''

''If this only involved you, I'd do that in a heartbeat, since you're hellbent on destroying yourself,'' Mark said calmly. ''You've gotten quite good at it. You've been threatened with suspension, termination and now prison. None of it seems to have an impact on you - and I'd like to know why. Why are you throwing away a woman who loves you with her entire heart? And Becca - you're denying her the chance to ever get to know her father. So give me one good reason _why_ I should let you do that...and I'll leave you alone.''

''Because I deserve it. Especially after what I did today...I deserve it.''

''You're in pain, Steve. You've been angry and in pain for far too long without admitting it - _really_ admitting it - to anyone. You won't even acknowledge it to yourself. 'Strong and silent' has you one step or less from losing your family and your future forever. So who are you really so angry with, Steve? You've brushed the surface more than once and every time something pulls you back. There's no more pulling back! This is it - right now - your very last chance. Do you ever want to hold Jaime in your arms again? Or Becca?''

''Of course I do,'' Steve answered in a voice filled with pain.

''_Who are you angry with_?''

''_**Myself!**_ There - are you happy now, Doc? I'm angry with myself!''

''Now tell me why!'' Mark demanded.

''I couldn't protect Jaime in that attic, from the drill! I couldn't stop Kingsley's men from dragging her off to that damn amusement park! I didn't _make_ her stay behind when I went back there a second time, after that maniac - and it got her victimized all over again! I chained her to that railing and left her there for Kingsley to do his worst -''

''You had no choice,'' Mark pointed out.

''She has to live the rest of her life knowing she killed someone - because I left her there to deal with him alone! When I got there, it was too late to help her. Again! I was _too late to help her_! Kingsley had her over that railing, face-first toward the ground and there wasn't anything I could do!''

''And you could've lost her.''

''Yes!''

Mark nodded. ''Then the same thing happened with Michael, didn't it? You saw something that made you think you were losing her again.''

''Except I wasn't. I know that now. It was my own damn jealousy - I drove her straight into his arms!''

''You lost Jaime to Michael four years ago and then you nearly lost her to him again,'' Mark said quietly. ''And when she _did_ come back to you...''

''He nearly killed her! I was too stupid to see that something was _wrong_! Her headaches...I should've never let Oscar send her to Trinidad!'' Steve slammed his shackled fists into the hard metal bench in frustration. ''When she needed help...when she needed me...I was drunk and almost couldn't get down there to save her!''

''But you did save her.''

''And I _never_ should've let her go and see Michael...well..._here_! Then he'd never have had the chance to...do what he did.''

''Say it; finish it,'' Mark told him.

''Jaime was terrorized! She was threatened...drugged..._attacked_ - and all because _I couldn't help her_!''

''Is Jaime capable of independent thought?'' Mark asked.

''That's an asinine question!''

''She made her own choices, didn't she? Some of them bad ones - which doesn't mean she deserved what happened to her because of course she didn't. But for you to take blame on your own shoulders for 'letting' her do anything is just -''

''Asinine?''

''Now you're getting it,'' Mark told him. ''The other things you mentioned, were any of them in your control - directly or indirectly? Or were they out of your hands because someone took free will away from you? Be angry at the situation - at what happened - but don't try to carry the whole world on your shoulders because no one is capable of that. Not even you. Everything you've just cited was an instance where you almost lost Jaime because of something you couldn't control. You're about to lose her again but this time, control is squarely in your hands.''

''Alright, Doc; help me...please?''

* * *

Jaime slept fitfully, even under sedation, and was inconsolable when awake - trying to resign herself to a life without Steve. The only thing that pulled her out of her funk was when Becca was brought to her for quality bonding time. She was singing softly (soothing herself as well as the baby) when Mark appeared in the doorway...with Oscar beside him.

- - - - -


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Jaime saw Oscar and Mark's steady, solemn gazes and burst into fresh tears as she cradled Becca close to her chest. ''Oh God...Steve's dead...isn't he? You came to tell me he's dead...he resisted arrest and -''

''Jaime, no,'' Mark told her. ''Steve is alright. Well, as 'alright' as he can be, under the circumstances.''

''Where is he? You...had him turned down, didn't you?'' she asked Oscar.

''I had to; there was no other choice,'' Oscar explained. ''He isn't under arrest - at least, not yet. He's in formal custody while we decide how to handle this.''

''_Formal custody_? Oscar, please cut the OSI double-speak and tell me what's happened to him! Where is he?''

''He's at the NSB -''

''Oh, no -!''

''Babe, he's there in the custody of the OSI. Bill Parr or even Jack Hansen can't go in there to see him without either myself or a designated member of my staff present.''

''That's...a blessing, anyway,'' Jaime allowed. ''What happens now?''

''I need to get a statement from you regarding what went on in that conference room,'' Oscar explained. ''I've already talked to Rudy. Mark will make his initial recommendations and then I will make a decision as to what charges - if any - will be filed.''

''_If any_?'' Jaime noted hopefully. She jiggled Becca in her arms as the baby began to stir. ''You mean...you might let him go?''

''I can't promise you that, Babe. This is serious. Let's get your statement out of the way and then we'll talk about the charges and...other matters.''

''What 'other matters'?''

''Jaime, we need to do this Oscar's way,'' Mark warned her softly.

''When you and Steve were alone in the conference room,'' Oscar began, ''did he threaten you or try to harm you in any way?''

''Oscar! Of course not!'' Jaime went through every detail of that morning to the best of her ability, honestly but very carefully. She tried not to paint Steve in a bad light but she knew she couldn't sugar coat the incident; Mark would never let her get away with that and neither would Oscar.

''Did any piece, portion or fragment of the chair or table strike you in any way?'' Oscar queried.

''No. In fact, he swung the chair _away_ from me when he broke it.''

''Were you afraid for your safety, then or at any time while you were in the room with him?''

''No!''

''Then why did you scream?'' Oscar inquired.

''Because I was afraid for Steve!'' Jaime cried.

''But not afraid of him?''

''No! Steve would never hurt me. Busting a table or a chair because he's mad, yes. And before you say it, I know that's bad enough. I know it's serious! I just...I want my husband back! We can work through this; I know we can! Please, Oscar - don't take him away from us!'' Jaime's eyes flooded with tears and she handed Becca to Mark. He nodded and took the baby into the next room, where the nurses had set up a temporary nursery for her. ''Please tell me,'' Jaime begged Oscar. ''What happens to Steve now?''

''Worst case scenario, he could be going away for a very long time, depending on the charges and how they're stacked. Best case scenario, he's been turned down. I have to suspend him for three months while he works with Mark. The charges would remain on a 'pending' status. If he refuses therapy or if there are any further violent incidents, I may have to terminate him and then _all_ charges would be filed. At the end of three months, we would reconsider his status.''

''So he could...come home?'' Jaime asked, brightening just a little.

''It's a possibility that I _will_ consider,'' Oscar told her as Mark rejoined them.

''Oh Oscar...please?''

''There's one other thing we need to discuss. With Steve turned down and deactivated -''

''You're going to have Rudy give me my strength back...aren't you?''

''How do you feel about that, Jaime?'' Mark asked her.

''If...Steve can be with Becca...because I don't want her to have no parent with her at all,'' Jaime said thoughtfully.

''I would do my best not to call on you,'' Oscar explained, ''in deference to the fact that you have a very young infant. But we really do need one of you ready and able to go should a need arise.''

''I understand,'' Jaime told him. ''Let's do it; I'm ready right now.''

Oscar nodded. ''I spoke with Rudy. It's a week earlier than he'd planned to do this for you, but he tells me you're strong and healthy enough. They'll need to keep you here a few days to make sure your body adjusts properly and there are no problems.''

''Are you sure you feel up to this, Jaime?'' Mark questioned.

Jaime met his gaze squarely, her tears gone now. ''I'm ready,'' she repeated.

* * *

Downstairs in his office, Rudy had already made certain all necessary equipment and supplies were in place. He had one more thing he wanted to do before they brought Jaime down to him (if they brought Jaime down to him). He picked up the phone and dialed the lab. ''Do we still have Michael Marchetti's blood sample?'' he inquired. ''Good; it's very important that you hold onto it. I'll be needing it very soon.''

- - - - -


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

When the cell door opened, even though he was no longer shackled, Steve stayed on the bench and stared silently at the floor...until he saw whose shoes stood in front of him. ''Oscar...I'm sorry,'' Steve began. ''I know 'sorry' doesn't begin to cover this though.''

''You're right; it doesn't,'' Oscar agreed. He nodded to the guard to close the cell door. ''Let's start with destruction of government property. Even if we combined the damage to Mark Conrad's office with the damage to the conference room, there was the door yesterday morning and the holes in two walls last year. Then again, if we count each broken _item_ individually, the charges could mushroom. Then there's 'simple' assault. How many people - most if not all of them government employees - do you think have felt threatened by your actions?''

''Too many to count,'' Steve replied gravely.

''Battery. How many people have you 'helped' into a chair, 'moved' out of your way or perhaps grabbed by the collar while you shook your fist in their faces? I'm not talking about interrogations you may have conducted; I'm speaking only of your own personal conduct. And those charges could be expanded to felonious assault if we consider your bionics a deadly weapon. Employees of this hospital, Steve - and its Security staff - _Federal employees_! Add that into the mix and we have big problems. Each count could result in a term of one year in jail, all the way up to 20 years in prison...and they could be stacked to run concurrently or consecutively. Do you see the dilemma you're put me in, Pal? I've let you slide, given you far more chances than anyone else would've received because of who you are. You're the best operative I've ever worked with. The best! More than that, though...you're a _friend_. So now there's a decision placed squarely on my shoulders - a decision I never thought I'd have to make involving you.''

''And you shouldn't have to,'' Steve acknowledged. ''Oscar, turn me over to Jack Hansen. He's wanted to sink his fangs into me for years; this is his chance.''

''Hansen and Parr don't even know you're here,'' Oscar told him. ''Jack Hansen would throw away the key on you, Steve.''

''I know.''

''Then there's...Jaime.'' Oscar's voice softened. ''Do you comprehend what you've done to her? Hasn't she been through enough trauma without your 'help'? And when she was in trouble down in Trinidad, you almost left her without a potential rescue team because you were in no shape for me to put you on that plane.''

''Twice now, I've seen fear in Jaime's eyes,'' Steve said sadly, ''and I have to live with knowing that I put it there. That's why nothing Hansen can do to me will really mean anything anymore, Oscar - because I've already lost the only part of my life that truly matters. I said some awful things to her today - unforgivable things - and I know I'm a monster in her eyes now, so -''

''No, Pal, you're not. She's hurt, yes, but Jaime _loves_ you.''

''Have you seen her? Is she...okay?''

''I spoke with her. My main concern is whether or not Jaime would feel safe with you - or if she'd be too afraid of the next time you were unable to control your temper,'' Oscar explained.

''There won't be a 'next time', Oscar. No matter what happens to me after this or where I end up, I know there are other ways to deal with anger...and I know I need to use them.''

''It sounds like Mark made quite an impact on you today.''

Steve nodded. ''All I've been able to do down here is think. And the only thing I can think about is how I had the most beautiful family any man could hope for...and I threw them away, all because I was too stubborn to ask for help.''

''They may not be lost to you,'' Oscar told him quietly. ''I've decided to hold all charges against you on a 'pending' status, in a sealed file. I'll suspend you for 90 days, but we'll meet to discuss your status after 30 days and if you've made sufficient progress - and continue to make progress - the suspension could be lifted early and the charges dropped.''

''Oscar...thank you. I won't mess up again; I swear it.''

''I know you won't. I believe in you and so does Jaime. There's...one other thing. You know you've been turned down.''

''You've reactivated her, haven't you?'' Steve concluded.

''I'll do everything in my power not to call on her. The two of you - no, the _three_ of you - need some time to mend together as a family.''

''I don't even know what to say, except...I won't let you down. And I won't let Jaime and Becca down.''

''We'll be talking more about this - and please know that even while you're under suspension you can call me at any time if you need anything at all,'' Oscar told him. ''Right now, let's get you out of here so you can be by your wife's side when she wakes up.''

* * *

Jaime opened her eyes to the one sight she'd longed for more than any other in the world: Steve's eyes smiling down at her. Very tenderly, he took her hand and she reached up to pull him into a warm, happy embrace.

''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered.

''_I love you_,'' Jaime told him softly.

From the side of the room, Rudy beamed at both of them. Now they could finally begin to really, truly _heal_...and if things went the way he hoped they would, he'd soon have a gift for them, the most important gift of all - peace of mind.

- - - - -


	23. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Steve spent the night in the room on the other side of Jaime's because everyone (including Steve himself) felt it was best that he not go home just yet. In the middle of the night, unable to sleep, he wandered down to Becca's makeshift nursery and found Jaime was already there. She smiled encouragingly at him and Steve placed a gentle, loving arm around her waist. Together they stood and simply watched their daughter sleep. The nurse who'd been assigned to remain with the baby slipped out quietly to give the Austins a bit of privacy.

''How are you feeling?'' Steve asked.

''So far, so good,'' Jaime told him. ''No problems. They'll be putting me through the paces in the morning and then I guess we'll know for sure if it 'took' the way it's supposed to.''

''I'm so sorry they had to do this to you.''

''Well, I'm not. It was almost time for Rudy to turn me up anyhow...and now I feel more like myself again,'' Jaime said softly, tilting her head up to kiss him.

''I guess I'd rather have had them leave you the way you were, so you could stay home with Becca, out of harm's way.''

''You know that'd never happen,'' Jaime laughed. ''All these expensive wires and circuits in me...the government has to get their money's worth. Besides, I'm good at it...or, I will be.''

''You _are_,'' Steve confirmed. ''I just wish...''

''Yeah...I know.''

* * *

Down in his lab Rudy was running on coffee and adrenaline. His colleague had arrived from England and (running on 'London time') they were ready to begin. ''First we break the cells open,'' Rudy's friend explained, ''then we'll remove the membrane lipids and go from there. Making a definitive match is very tough, but we should be able to at least make an exclusion; that should help your friends, provided things turn out in the direction you're hoping for. Even if the opposite happens, at least they'll have an answer.''

Rudy nodded...and the process began.

* * *

Mark knew what was going on down in the lab (although the Austins did not) and as Steve and Jaime were finishing enjoying breakfast together, he came bearing cookies...and a question.

''White chocolate for you,'' he told Jaime, ''and some nice, gooey brownies for Steve.'' While he watched them dig eagerly into their treats, he sprang his question on them. He'd always found that the hardest questions get the most honest answers when posed out of the blue, with no warning. ''How will you both feel if somewhere down the line there's a way to determine Becca's parentage - and Steve is not her biological father? How will it affect your feelings toward her...and what do you think it might do to your marriage?''

''Wow, Doc,'' Steve exclaimed. ''Nothing like a punch straight to the gut, first thing in the morning.'' He set down the brownie and his gaze met Jaime's, exploring her eyes for an answer. ''We thought about this, even talked about it, before they did the blood typing. My feelings...they haven't changed. Becca is my daughter; I delivered her in the backseat of the car, held her in my hands and heard her first cry. That counts for something.''

''That counts for _everything_,'' Jaime confirmed. ''Steve is the one who gets up in the middle of the night with her - with _both_ of us - and he's the one Becca will be looking at when she says 'DaDa'. Some test that might be years in the future, if ever, well...it isn't gonna change that. Because being a father isn't as important as being 'Daddy'.''

Mark eyed both of his patients thoughtfully. He chose not to tell them about what was happening downstairs in the lab, just in case an answer couldn't be achieved. The science was still so new. But he was relieved to hear that they both seemed to be 'getting' it. ''Now let's talk about yesterday,'' he prompted.

Steve took Jaime's hand and looked directly into her eyes. ''What I said to you...I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. You had no control over what Michael did to you - and you sure didn't deserve it. Just like you didn't deserve my reaction yesterday. I - I asked you to be completely honest with me and when you did, it blew up in your face.''

''Scared the hell outta me,'' Jaime told him. ''And yeah - it _hurt_...but like I said to Oscar, I was afraid for you, not of you. When Oscar and those men...took you away...I didn't know if I'd ever see you again.''

''So let's start that portion of yesterday's conversation over again,'' Mark suggested. ''Steve, you just heard something you hadn't expect - something that happened at the cabin.''

Steve nodded. ''I hate Michael _so_ much for putting you in that position,'' he told his wife. ''You did - and said - all the right things to get out of there alive...and I'm so proud of you...and so grateful that you're still here and in my arms.''

''It means I won,'' Jaime added. ''WE won; Michael didn't beat us. And that's the same reason I need to go up to the prison - to let him know that even though he did his worst, he didn't get the revenge he was hoping for. _We won_. Game, set, match.''

''Revenge,'' Steve repeated. ''Isn't that the same thing you wanna achieve by going up there - to rub his nose in it?''

''Well...yeah.''

''Why?'' Steve asked. ''He's already had the book thrown at him; he'll never be free again. You'd basically be going up there to stick your tongue out and say 'Nyah, nyah...so there!' Is it really worth it?''

''Dammit, Austin; you've already been right once this year! Once is all you're allowed!''

Steve grinned. ''We'll mark it on the calendar.''

Rudy and Doctor Corinth appeared in the doorway with a clipboard and Rudy's ever-present stopwatch. ''Are we interrupting?'' Corinth asked.

''We're ready for a break,'' Mark told them. ''Steve, why don't you run too? It's a great outlet for excess energy.''

Steve nodded and (after Jaime and Steve had donned track suits) all five of them headed outside. The Austins took the first lap slowly, at a jogging pace and then Steve joined the doctors on the bench when Rudy motioned for Jaime to speed it up.

''Her body seems to have made the adjustment well,'' Corinth noted.

Jaime grinned at the doctors as she whizzed past them and kicked it up to full speed...then, on the farthest turn, her leg gave out and she stumbled to the ground.

- - - - -


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Even without the benefit of bionics, Steve was the first to reach Jaime's side. She'd already struggled to her feet and was taking a few tentative steps when he moved to pick her up and carry her in - and she shook her head. ''I'm...okay,'' Jaime insisted as the doctors joined them. ''Let me take another jogging lap; just need to work the kinks out.''

''You can walk in,'' Rudy told her, ''if you're sure you're steady enough. No more laps today though.'' He watched as Jaime began to make her way back toward the building, leaning heavily on Steve's arm. Her gait was unsure...but steady.

''It was too soon...wasn't it?'' Steve asked when Jaime was settled into her bed.

''It was only a couple days before they were gonna do it anyway,'' Jaime pointed out. ''I probably just pushed it a little too hard...right, Rudy?''

Rudy frowned thoughtfully. ''Any pain, Honey?'' Jaime shook her head. ''Wriggle your toes for me - left, then right, then both feet together.''

''I just walked in from outside; aren't we beyond wriggling my toes?''

''Jaime...'' Steve admonished.

Jaime stuck her tongue out at her husband...and then dutifully wriggled her toes.

A nurse came in carrying a restless, squirming Becca in her arms. ''I think someone wants Mom and Dad,'' she said with a smile.

''I'll take her,'' Steve offered. ''Mornin', Peanut,'' he greeting, holding her close.

Rudy took in the heartwarming scene before turning his attention back to Jaime. It made him more determined than ever to find some answers for his patients (and dear friends). It would take about a week...five days if they pushed it. Hopefully, it would bring the Austins some much-needed peace of mind. ''Everything seems okay now,'' he announced. ''Tomorrow we'll take things a little more slowly and then work our way up. In the meantime, if you have pain of any kind, let us know right away.''

* * *

''Have you both set aside the idea of trying to contact Michael?'' Mark asked later that afternoon.

''Yeah...for now,'' Jaime told him.

''Sure would like to get my hands on his slimeball of an attorney though,'' Steve added. ''But...I won't.'' He could feel his blood boiling at the thought of what Reinert had helped put Jaime through. ''He seems to have made himself pretty scarce, but I would too if I'd just indulged in Witness Tampering.''

''And you'll let Morrisey and the legal team deal with him...right?'' Mark prompted.

At first, Steve didn't answer. His thoughts were straying toward ripping a certain attorney to pieces and feeding him to a shark; as angry as he felt, lack of bionics would not be a problem. Jaime put her hand on his arm and could feel the tension tightening his whole body. ''Anybody who would do that to you...'' Steve seethed. ''I don't care where the idea came from; he's a lawyer - and he _knows better_!''

''Steve,'' Mark began cautiously, ''what can you do with that anger, besides hunting him down and getting yourself in more trouble?''

''I'll jog a few laps if I need to, Doc,'' Steve told him. ''Jaime and Becca mean more to me than revenge does.'' As much as he had the right idea and the best intentions to go with it, Steve's anger was palpable; it seemed to fill the room with unspoken promise. Jaime could feel it...and it made her shudder.

Mark felt it too...and it was part of his job to deal with it. ''He _did_ hurt your wife...didn't he? Like Michael did...like Kingsley did. Made her cry; pushed her closer to the edge...''

''Mark, don't...'' Jaime said softly.

''He _threatened_ her - threatened your _family_,'' Mark persisted. ''He had no right! There are lots of things you could do about that. I see the fists you're making. Do you think that's the best choice?''

''What'd you expect?'' Jaime asked.

''Nobody threatens your family...do they, Steve?'' Mark shot at him.

''No,'' Steve growled back. ''But there are 'proper channels' to handle that - and to handle this. I can say 'Knock it off, Doc,'' and hopefully you have the good sense to do that.''

''They tried to take Jaime away from you - to tear her from your arms - didn't they?''

''Stop it. _Now_.'' Steve requested (through clenched teeth).

''Then they threatened to take Becca - and they made Jaime afraid, all over again!''

Steve raised his fist to send it crashing through the bedside table..then unclenched it and took Jaime's hand instead.

''And that's what I like to see,'' Mark confirmed with a smile. ''Congratulations.''

The next morning, Jaime and Steve both headed out to the track and took several rounds together, staying at a comfortable jogging pace. Jaime's legs held out and the last remnants of Steve's (current) anger were assuaged. Rudy motioned Steve to the bench and Jaime jogged in place as the doctor issued instructions for her to take another lap. ''Faster - but not full speed this time.''

Jaime nodded and took off running. Steve felt a quiet pang of sadness as he watched her, wishing he was still able to keep pace. Soon he would be again, he vowed. He'd work with Mark and - as suggested - try not to be so hesitant to lean on Jaime when he needed to. They could help each other through this, Steve realized, instead of him constantly having to be 'the strong one'. He did no one any favors when he felt or acted this way...especially not Jaime. In another 24 hours, they would likely be headed home together - a family of _three_, ready to try facing life together on new, _healthier_ terms.

They still had no idea what was going on in Rudy's lab...

- - - - -


	25. Epilogue

Epilogue

''But...we're finally _home_!'' Jaime protested. ''Why do I have to stay in just one room - even if it is my favorite?'' She sank down into the nursery rocker with Becca in her arms...and flashed her most adorable pout at Steve.

It didn't work. ''Just stay here in the nursery until I call you...please?'' Steve repeated. Moving quickly into the kitchen, he found that OSI 'elves' had supplied everything he'd asked for. He threw the potatoes into the oven, tossed the salad, sliced mushrooms, spread garlic butter on the bread and finally started the grill (all by himself this time) before Jaime called restlessly (but very softly) from the nursery.

''Am I allowed to take a bubble bath?'' she whispered, gently jostling Becca into a deeper stage of sleep.

''No time now. It'll just be a few more minutes.''

''Until...what?''

Steve smiled and kissed her. ''Until you get to come out of exile. Now _stay here_...please?''

When Jaime was finally allowed to emerge, she found a table set with her grandmother's tablecloth and Steve's grandmother's silver. Candles burned in the center, on either side of a small vase of red roses. There was a bowl of salad - with the greens torn, not cut - at each of their places. ''Happy Anniversary,'' Steve said, beaming. ''Better late than never.''

''Aw..I was gonna do this tomorrow night!'' she told him, ''Thank you...''

Steve kissed her again. ''You might hold onto that 'thank you' until you've tasted the food,'' he joked. ''And celebrating two nights in a row is perfectly acceptable.''

The steak with mushrooms (in a simple garlic butter) was delicious - and perfectly grilled. The next night, Jaime made pork tenderloin and all the trimmings and they celebrated again...both during and _after_ dinner.

''Becca will be in good hands when I go back to work,'' Jaime sighed happily.

''Hopefully not for awhile, though,'' Steve countered. ''Oscar said he'd wait as long as he could.''

''Yeah, but you know as well as I do - and probably a lot better - how that works. 'As long as he could' might be tomorrow. So let's just enjoy tonight...''

* * *

The Austins dutifully kept up their morning coffee sessions with Mark. At the beginning of the next week (and completely unannounced), Rudy showed up along with the therapist. ''I have something to talk to you both about,'' the older doctor told them. He explained a bit about a brand-new science that revolved around a discovery a friend of his had made in England a little over a year before. ''DNA is completely unique to each individual and yet carries characteristics from both sets of their families. While one day it's hoped they'll be able to make definitive matches - to say beyond a doubt that a child has certain parents to the exclusion of all others - it's possible now to spot similarities...and the lack of similarities. In other words, to - occasionally - rule out a potential parent.''

''What are you saying, Rudy?'' Steve asked, pulling Jaime closer as he felt her leaning into him.

''We had blood samples for you and Jaime, of course. We took a sample from Becca when she was born. And...we had that sample obtained from Michael. A little over a week ago, we started running a test. We finished early this morning - and we were able to positively rule out one of the samples in this case.''

''Did you...know about this?'' Jaime asked Mark.

''Yes. I tried to prepare you for whatever the results might be - and I still don't know what those results actually are. Are you ready to hear them...whatever they might tell you...or do you need a little more time? Do you even _want_ to hear them?''

''I know that Becca's _my_ daughter, no matter what some fancy new test might say,'' Steve answered. ''So even though it won't change how I feel about her, yes; I'd like to know.''

''I'd...like to know too,'' Jaime agreed.

''Are you sure, Sweetheart?'' Steve asked. He could feel her beginning to tremble, just slightly.

''I'm sure,'' she confirmed. Jaime tilted her head up to kiss her husband. ''I love you,'' she said softly, before turning to Rudy. ''Okay, Rudy...I'm ready.''

''It appears that the island worked its magic on the two of you. When that little girl of yours wakes up, hug her extra-close...and know that she is _an Austin_!''

- - - - -

END OF EPISODE TWO


End file.
